My family’s tragic band of brothers - by Robin Scott-Elliot

 

History was my favourite subject at school and it still fascinates me today – I’ve always got a pile of history books next to my bed (my favourite place to read!). What interests me most about history is not the big picture, the great canvas that shows the rise and fall of empires and kings and queens, but the all the small portraits of the people who make up history. I want to know about those in the frontline, the led not the leaders and that’s why I have a fascination with family history.

This is what got me into history in the first place – my family story. Everyone will have something in their family history worth sharing. I help put together a podcast (We Have Ways Family Stories) in which listeners send in stories of their relatives from the Second World War. Hundreds were sent in. These range from tales of brave men and women doing incredible things… to those whose battle was just to stay alive… to those whose part in history almost makes you laugh.

One listener told of a relative who worked at a top-secret weapons factory. The roof was covered in grass to make it look like a field with a few wooden cows and sheep scattered around. This person’s job was to climb up on to the roof each morning and move the cows and sheep around in case the Germans realised they were always in the same place.

So, everyone’s family has a story but you have to go out and look for it. That’s what I did with mine and it’s one of the main reasons I became obsessed with history.

Bertie Anderson

I’ve an old photograph hanging in my house of my great-granddad, WH Anderson, known as Bertie. It’s been handed down the family and I grew up hearing stories of Bertie and his three brothers, Ronnie, Charlie and Teddie. They were all killed in the First World War and so I decided I wanted to write their story so we would have a way of always remembering them and their short lives.

The Anderson brothers

This is what I found out…

When war began in the hot summer of 1914, Charlie Anderson, a lieutenant in the Highland Light Infantry, wrote home that he “was so glad we will all be in this one together.” Charlie, like many Britons and in particular British soldiers, was excited at the thought of going to war. He pictured marching off to fight the Germans with his three brothers at his side. But by the time his brothers arrived in France, Charlie was already dead.

Charlie’s war lasted eight days. He went into the trenches on 11 December 1914. On 19 December he took part in an attack on the German lines and was never seen again. His body was never found. His parents, Nora and Willie, were told he was missing, but that didn’t mean he was dead. They had to wait seven terrible months until it was confirmed Charlie was gone forever.

By then Ronnie was at the front. He joined Charlie’s battalion, determined to ‘do his bit’, as people at the time used to say.

He lasted longer than Charlie, but not by long. In October 1915, Ronnie, a tall man with long legs, didn’t notice he’d stopped by a place in the trench which was not as deep as the rest. He was shot by a sniper.

What must this have been like for the two remaining brothers, Bertie and Teddie? What about Nora and Willie? Two of their children gone, the remaining two now at the front and in daily danger of suffering the same fate. What was it like to live like that for day after day, month after month, year after year?

Teddie Anderson

By March 1918, Teddie was in the Royal Flying Corps – he left school and joined up. The first time he went abroad was to go to war. If you lasted six months at the front as a pilot, you were sent home to be an instructor – most pilots didn’t last that long. Teddie sent long letters home from France. In one he wrote about singing all the way home after surviving a raid on some German observation balloons. I picture him sitting in the cockpit, swaddled in his massive leather coat with its fur collar, scarf flapping in the wind and goggles fixed tight, shouting out his song. I wonder what song it was?

On 16 March 1918, Teddie, now an instructor in Kent, suffered a catastrophic engine failure while on a test flight. His injuries were fatal. “He slipped away to a better place,” the nurse who treated him wrote to Nora.

Nora put a thin black line through 16 on her pocket March calendar. Nine days later she made another mark.

On 21 March, the Germans launched a huge attack, a last bid to win the war. Bertie and his men of the Highland Light Infantry stood in their way. On 25 March he was killed. He’d spent his final day leading his men in attack after attack. He died a hero – later awarded a Victoria Cross. The medal is in the Imperial War Museum along with photographs and the story of him and his brothers. When I go to London, I go and see the medal. It feels like I’m saying hello.

The telegram sent to Bertie's wife, Gertie,
 informing her that he'd been killed

Bertie never knew of the medal, or the fact he would be considered a hero. I wonder what Nora, his mother, made of it. Four children, all gone in the space of four years. How do you cope with that? She made an album about her boys, photographs and letters and newspaper cuttings, everything she had of them. All she had left of them.

I’ve got the album. I’m looking after it until I hand it on to my children and I hope they will hand it on in due course. And that way someone will always remember Nora’s boys, Bertie, Ronnie, Charlie and Teddie.

Robin Scott-Elliot has been a sports journalist for 25 years with the BBC, ITV, the Sunday Times, the Independent and the ‘i’, covering every sport you can think of and a few you probably can’t. He threw that all away to move home to Scotland and chase his dream of writing books instead of football reports. Once there his daughters persuaded him to write a story for them and that is how his career as a children's author began. Finding Treasure Island is his latest book and is published by Cranachan.

 

 

 

 

A Chilly Afternoon's Mudlarking! by guest author Kate Wiseman

Hi, I was absolutely delighted to be asked to make a film about mudlarking* for the Time Tunnellers. 

If you don’t know, mudlarking is searching the Thames foreshore at low tide to see what historical treasures you can find, and you need a permit from the Port of London Authority to do it.  I’m always more than happy to talk about mudlarking, so I set off on a chilly late winter’s day to see what the Thames would give me.

Mudlarkers look for objects from the past on the banks of the Thames

The tide wasn’t particularly low, but the Thames was generous, as she usually is. My favourite finds were a tiny 17^th century pipe bowl and a lovely nugget of fool’s gold. Someone suggested that I break it open to see what it’s like inside, but I think it’s beautiful as it is. What do you think?? What would you do?

One of Kate's mudlarking finds

I didn’t come across my dream find: a bellarmine jug or witch bottle. They were used in the 17^th century to ward off witchcraft. Superstitious people filled them with nail clippings, hair, red thread and even urine to counteract witches’ spells. Often they would be buried under the doorway of a house, or beneath the fireplace. Others were simply used to transport alcohol and thrown into the Thames when empty.

I did find the handle of one, and also the eye from the representation of an angry-looking man. These were applied to the front of bellarmine bottles.  I dream about finding a whole one and if I ever do, I’ll be shouting about it from the rooftops. 

Clay pipes are one object that can be found by mudlarkers -
the original mudlarkers were poor children.

My first Mudlark Mystery, The Grinning Throat, features a witch bottle and on the front cover, Edie Lighterman, one of my protagonists, is shown holding one. That will have to do until I find a real one. Watch this space…

'My first thought is that it’s a pig that someone has lost to the river. Perhaps it fell off one of the barges that choke up the Thames. They’re a constant feature, toiling up and down, day and night, giving off black smoke that clings to the water.'

Joe (15) and Edie (13) are orphans living in Victorian London. Forever worried that they will be sent to the dreaded workhouse, they scratch out a living the best way they can by mudlarking on the foreshore of the River Thames and selling their finds to the notorious Hempson. One day they discover something macabre, and it will change their lives forever. 

The Grinning Throat is the first in the trilogy of The Mudlark Mysteries. Written by award winning author, Kate Wiseman, it is historical fiction at its best. Suitable for readers from age 9 and upwards.

The Grinning Throat has been longlisted in the historical Association's Young Quills 2024 award.

You can buy copies online HERE.

Kate Wiseman is an author and mudlark. She grew up in Oxford in the 1970s and was the first in her family to go to university, at the age of 38. She loved it so much, she went on to take a master’s degree as well. That gave her the courage to have a go at what she’d always dreamed of doing: being a writer. Kate loves visiting schools to deliver creative writing workshops based on mudlarking and her books. 

Find out more about mudlarking and Kate's other books at Katewiseman.co.uk

*Mudlarkers in London must have a Thames Foreshore Permit which can be obtained from the Port of London Authority. All objects which are three hundred years old or more must be reported to the Museum of London. Mudlarks arrange regular appointments with a Finds Liaison Officer who records the artefacts on the Portable Antiquities Scheme managed by the British Museum.

World Book Day special : The history of children's books by The Time Tunnellers

If you go into a bookshop or library today there will be a Children’s Section – of course there will. And you will be spoilt for choice. There have never been so many books written for young people. But it hasn’t always been like this. Far from it – the history of children’s books is not a long one, certainly compared to adult literature.

Children are spoiled for choice in many independent bookshops

(photograph Susan Brownrigg)

We have to fast-forward to the 19^th century to see the first real age of books for young people. There had been occasional pioneers in previous centuries, but in the 17^th century the few books aimed at children were mostly about being ‘good’ – and the horrors that would befall you if you weren’t.

In the Victorian era, for many children in Britain, the poor, the ones in ever-growing factories or getting shoved up chimneys, there would have been next to no access to books. But for the middle class, a group growing by the day, this was the first golden age of children’s literature. And certainly it’s remarkable how many books published in the 19^th century are still adored.

A selection of favourite children's classics

Photo Robin Scott-Eliot

I’m going to stay largely British, with a nod to America, because there just isn’t space to squeeze everything in from around the globe.

In 1846 Edward Lear published A Book of Nonsense. It did what it said on the tin and was a huge hit. Lear wrote Limericks and nonsense poetry, the Owl and the Pussycat his most famous. He played with words, made up words – the owl and the pussycat took a runcible spoon with them – he showed children (and adults) that reading and writing can be fun.

Charles Lutwidge Dodgson did something similar in novel form 20 years later in one of the most famous children’s books ever written.

Who?

Dodgson took the pen name Lewis Carroll and wrote Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, published in 1865. Dodgson’s story challenged everything… what is normal, how adults behave, how adults expect children to behave – and it entertained.

Throughout this era technology was constantly improving, mass producing books was becoming easier, therefore books could be cheaper. Children’s publishers became pioneers of book covers as we know them today, using illustrations, pictures and designs.

There still remained a consensus in Victorian Britain that children should be protected from the real world with all its horrors and cruelties. Then along came Robert Louis Stevenson and Treasure Island – an adventure story that does not shield young readers from anything, nor its hero Jim. It throws us into a scary world but also one of enormous excitement. Stevenson was one of the first writers not to talk down to children; he wrote for them as equals.

Treasure Island takes its place in a late 19^th century, early 20^th century bookshelf that could be found in homes today. Run a finger along our bookshelf… Treasure Island, Black Beauty, Peter Pan, the Jungle Book, the Wizard of Oz, Tom Brown’s Schooldays (the first great boarding school story), Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, Little Women, Tom Sawyer, Anne of Green Gables, Beatrix Potter’s stories…

Some have lasted better than others, but many still have a golden glow or have had a significant influence on the stories that followed in the years to come. 

Books from the 20s and 30s are still loved by readers today

Photo Susan Brownrigg

The 1920s and 1930s was a thin time for children's books, but there are titles which will be familiar to readers today. 

A.A Milne's Winnie the Pooh books, Doctor Doolittle, Mary Poppins, The Hobbit and others continue to be chosen by children, and gifted by parents and grandparents wishing to pass on their favourites to a new generation. While film and animation adaptations as well as merchandising (who can resist a cuddly Pooh bear) continue to keep these stories alive.

Book jackets became more vibrant and colourful to entice shoppers and the Just William and the Chalet School books could use their covers to make it obvious they were part of a series. Some authors even began to illustrate their own covers, including Hugh Lofting (Doctor Doolittle again), Arthur Ransome while J R R Tolkien (The Hobbit) and T.S Eliot (Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats) designed their's. Artwork could also be very appealing in this period, for example E H Sheppard's beautifully illustrations for the A.A Milne books and Kenneth Grahame's Wind in the Willows.

Some popular books started out in a different format. Rupert the Bear, first created by Mary Tourtel, began life as a comic strip in the Daily Express (where he still appears every day) while The Velveteen Rabbit (or how toys become real) by Margery Williams was first published in Harper's Bazaar in 1921. The book was illustrated by William Nicholson and is still in print today.

Spot any favourites? Photo by Matt Wainwright

In the wake of the Second World War, publishers were looking for children's books that recalled an idyllic Britain to contrast with the reality of rationing and the enormous amount of work it was taking to rebuild the nation.

This period is sometimes called a Second Golden Age of children's publishing. The industry was small enough that publishers were still selecting authors and illustrators very carefully, but the developments in printing technology and the growing availability of printing materials meant that more and more books were being released and read. This, coupled with the influence of editors from the United States, meant that children’s publishing was beginning its journey towards becoming Big Business.

The Second World War loomed large in children’s fiction, including fantasies like The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe by C.S. Lewis (in which the children are evacuated to the country), and more realistic books like Carrie’s War by Nina Bawden and, later, Goodnight Mister Tom by Michelle Magorian.

British middle-grade fiction thrived in the 1960s and 70s. Roald Dahl captivated imaginations with classics like Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, where magical worlds unfolded alongside pointed life lessons. Dahl’s books represented the changes taking place in Britain in the 60s: they were still very moralistic, with clear ideas of right and wrong—but they were also anarchic and anti-authority, reacting against the strict upbringing that many of the children's authors of this period had experienced.

Across the Atlantic, Judy Blume’s classic Are You There, God? It’s Me, Margaret opened up the mind of a preteen girl and dealt frankly with topics such as young love and periods, while in the UK The Diary of Adrian Mole, Aged 13 ¾ by Sue Townsend explored a teenage boy’s attitudes towards adolescence and 1980s politics. While there was no such market as ‘young adult’ yet, these books were some of the first to explicitly explore the teenage experience for a teen audience.

Fantasy experienced a resurgence in the later part of the twentieth century, as readers and publishers rediscovered Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings. Building on Tolkien's vision of a rich fantasy world, British authors like Susan Cooper (The Dark is Rising series), Alan Garner (Elidor) and Philip Pullman (His Dark Materials trilogy) explored surprisingly adult themes, offering young readers narratives rich in fantasy, mythology, and moral complexity.

The second half of the century also saw a growth in children’s picture books, with more experimental formats and surprising stories being explored. Shirley Hughes painted vivid pictures of childhood with the Alfie books and Dogger; Dr. Suess created a madcap rhyming world in classics like The Cat in the Hat and Green Eggs and Ham; Maurice Sendak’s dark and atmospheric Where the Wild Things Are resonated with the heightened emotions of children; and Raymond Briggs bridged the gap between children and adults with his modern fairytale The Snowman and the firmly adult reflections on Cold War fears in When the Wind Blows.

The latter part of the twentieth century also witnessed a growing commitment to diversity in British children's literature. Authors like Malorie Blackman addressed issues of identity, discrimination, and inclusion, resonating with readers of all backgrounds. Representation of class and race was still not comprehensive, however, and working class and Black authors struggled for legitimacy in an industry that still favoured white, middle class writers.

Between the Second World War and the dawn of the next millennium, Children’s publishing had grown from a cottage industry to a thriving business model.

Readers are spoiled for choice with books written in the 1990s and onwards!

Photo Barbara Henderson

And then came along a single Mum in Edinburgh, who exploded the world of children’s publishing while jobbing as a teacher. You have guessed it: JK Rowling and her generation-defining boy wizard, Harry Potter, changed our world! 

The first book in the series, The Philosopher’s Stone (1997), was published quietly with an initial print run of only 500. No one could have possibly foreseen how huge and influential Rowling’s wizarding world would become – least of all the author who had received a considerable clutch of rejections from publishers and agents.

The groundwork had been laid in the months before: Philip Pullman’s ambitious His Dark Materials trilogy was already underway. Both his and Rowling’s series would be turned into multi-million budget film franchises, further extending the reach of their books.

No one could deny it now – a new golden age of children’s publishing had begun, and children’s books were selling in their millions. 

Those new instant classics kept coming thick and fast: Louis Sachar’s Holes (1998), Julia Donaldson’s The Gruffalo (1999), Eoin Colfer’s Artemis Fowl (2001), Neil Gaiman’s Coraline (2002) and Rick Riordan’s Percy Jackson series.

While Donaldson has dominated the picture book market in the UK ever since, the crowded Middle Grade category sported four genres in the main: humour, including Horrid Henry and Diary of a Wimpy Kid, Jacqueline Wilson’s real-life contemporary heroines, action series such as Alex Rider and fantasy, including the massively successful How to Train Your Dragon series. 

Rowling and Pullman occupied the upper limits of the age group edging into YA territory which would have its own renaissance with dystopian series fiction like Malorie Blackman’s Noughts and Crosses (2001) and American imports such as The Hunger Games (2008) and the Mazerunner (2009) and Divergent (2011) series. 

Vampires also had their moment with the Twilight (2005) Saga. Back in Middle Grade territory, Robin Stevens and her Murder Most Unladylike (2014) series and Katherine Rundell with her range of quirky adventures ushered in a bunch of new kids on the block.

But recently, there has been another trend: the celebrity author. The most ubiquitous of these is one David Walliams, sure to be stacked sky-high on a supermarket shelf near you. But all is not lost! Riding on the waves of these phenomenally successful books are hundreds of quieter authors with quirky and imaginative books in more genres one could count. 

If I may pick one particular favourite? The Executioner’s Daughter by Jane Hardstaff (2014) where history meets just the right amount of magic.

Long live children’s books!