One step from the workhouse - Ally Sherrick

My grandad – born into a working-class family in late Victorian England – led an eventful life. Sadly, I never got to hear about it first-hand as he died of ill-health brought on by his experiences as a gunner for the Royal Field Artillery in the First World War, 15 years before I was born. But one of the many stories my dad told us about him was that he had been born in a workhouse in Camberwell, south London. More recent research into our family tree has revealed that several of our other ancestors also spent time in workhouses during the course of their lives. 

        Workhouse record showing names of my grandad and great-grandmother

I remember learning something about the workhouse system and why it came into being in history lessons on the Industrial Revolution at school. First created through the enactment of the New Poor Law in 1834, three years before Queen Victoria came to the throne, it replaced the earlier ramshackle system of assistance or ‘poor relief’ for those who couldn’t work due to age or disability, in operation since Elizabethan times.

Victorian 'paupers' 

(Photo of original drawing in Southwell Workouse - Ally Sherrick)

Under the law, a network of hundreds of specially designed institutions were set up to give shelter to the poorest and most vulnerable in society. Commonly referred to as ‘paupers’ or ‘the destitute’, these were people who couldn’t afford to feed or clothe themselves and who would otherwise have ended up living, and in many cases dying, on the streets – forced to beg or else turn to a life of crime to support themselves. They included the unemployed, the elderly, unmarried mothers, women whose husbands had deserted them and people with physical or mental disabilities. In the absence of unemployment benefit, state pensions and the health and social care provided by the modern welfare state, unless they were granted money or help to continue living at home – ‘out-relief’ – the workhouse was their only recourse.

Elderly women workhouse inmates 

(Photo of original drawing in Southwell Workhouse - Ally Sherrick)

Workhouses were a contradictory blend of things. On the one hand they were designed to provide much needed support in the form of food, clothes and a roof over the head to those unable to look after themselves. But through their policy of separating families – wives from husbands, parents from children – and the heavily-supervised regime of dull routine and gruelling manual labour able-bodied inmates were expected to undertake – they were also intended to act as deterrents, discouraging people from regarding them as an alternative to employment and pushing them instead to do all they could to fend for themselves.

Gruelling manual labour was expected of all able-bodied inmates

(Photo of original drawing in Southwell Workhouse - Ally Sherrick)

Oakum-picking was a particularly tough job, often carried out by women inmates 

(Photo: Ally Sherrick)

Institutions were run by a Governor, or Master, and a Matron who was responsible for overseeing the women and children and ensuring the provision of nursing care. They reported to a committee of unpaid Guardians, elected by each parish from amongst local ratepayers, whose taxes funded the workhouse. Regional Inspectors would visit the workhouses on their patch to check they were abiding by the rules set out under the New Poor Law. Though many were well-run, there were sadly also examples of inmates, like poor Oliver Twist and his friends in CharlesDickens’ novel of the same name, being badly treated and insufficiently fed, plus instances of staff corruption too. A combination of factors – the general stigma associated with having to go into a workhouse in the first place, the loss of independence and tough conditions once inside, and stories of harsh treatment and brutality – meant that most people regarded them as a place of last resort, to be avoided at all costs.

(Photo: Ally Sherrick)

Family ancestry research has revealed that like Oliver Twist, my grandad was born in a workhouse to an unmarried mother – my great-grandmother – who was admitted when she was in labour at the age of 17 years. In late Victorian England, to fall pregnant when you were unmarried was frowned upon and meant that you risked being cast out into the world by your family with no means of support. My great-grandmother’s own mother had died when she was tiny, and for her, it seems that seeking admission to the workhouse infirmary to give birth was probably the only real option to get the help and care she needed. The records suggest that she was in the workhouse for less than a month and then left – presumably with my grandad. We don't know where they went after. Perhaps back to the family. But if they had stayed longer, what would life have been like for them as inmates? Last summer I had the chance to find out on a visit to an incredible survivor from those times.

Main entrance to Southwell Workhouse and Infirmary (Photo: Steve Smith)

Southwell Workhouse in Nottinghamshire, now in the care of the National Trust, is one of the earliest and most complete examples of a 19^th century workhouse to survive in the country. Largely unaltered from its original construction in 1824, it provided the prototype for all other workhouses under the New Poor Law system.

Workhouse rules 

(Photo: Ally Sherrick)

Visitors today can explore all aspects of workhouse life from the work rooms, exercise yards and dormitories used by the inmates, to the infirmary – where the sick were cared for and women, like my great-grandmother gave birth – and staff quarters. I could easily write a whole series of blogs on what I discovered on my visit, but as space is tight, here are just a few insights into what it was like to be a child inmate.

Inmates slept in shared dormitories 

(Photo: Ally Sherrick)

You may be admitted with your parents after they sought financial help from the parish, or else as an orphan or because you’d been abandoned – a sad reality for many children born into poverty in those days. Or maybe, like my grandad, you ended up being born there because your mother couldn’t get medical attention or support anywhere else. On admission, your clothes and any other belongings you might have with you would be confiscated, fumigated and stored away to be returned to you when you were eventually discharged. In their place you were given a workhouse uniform, usually made of coarse blue cloth.

Kept apart and sorted out

If you were admitted with siblings, you might be allowed to stay together, depending on your age. But if arriving with your parents, you would be separated from them since all able-bodied adults capable of work but who weren’t in a job (known in Victorian times as the ‘undeserving poor’) were regarded as a bad influence, including on their own offspring!

Your parents could request to see you, on a fixed day of the week, and always under the supervision of the Master or Matron in charge.

Like the adult inmates, children were divided into classes. These were:

·        Boys aged 7-12 years (later 7-15 years)

·        Girls aged 7-15 years

·        Children under 7

A strict timetable

Just as for the adults, you would be expected to follow a strict timetable. You would get up with the rising bell (6am in the summer, an hour later in winter), put on your uniform, get washed, make your bed and empty your chamber pot. Prayers and breakfast would be followed by lessons in the classroom. Dinner was served at 12 noon with time for recreation followed by work-related training in the afternoon. This was followed by supper at 6pm with a little more time for recreation, then prayers and bed at 8pm. Sunday was a day of rest as were Good Friday and Christmas Day.

Laundry work was carried out by women and girls 

(Photo: Ally Sherrick)

Reading, writing and arithmetic

As a child inmate you had one advantage over other working-class children in the early days of the workhouse system at least, receiving a basic formal education long before it became compulsory in wider society. If you were under seven, you would be taught in mixed classes. If older, you would find yourself in a class of either boys or girls taught by a school master or mistress. The main subjects, taught for three hours each morning, were basic arithmetic, reading and writing with religious instruction given by a chaplain. 

(Photo: Ally Sherrick)

In the afternoon, you could expect to be given ‘industrial training’ – most likely gardening for the boys and needlework, cookery or working in the laundry for the girls. In this way, the thinking went, you would be better equipped on leaving to find employment, whether in domestic service or working in a factory or on the land. And the authorities hoped, less likely to end up back inside the workhouse again.

Food, but not so glorious …

Breakfast was a simple meal of bread and gruel – a type of thin porridge.

Dinner – the lunchtime meal – was usually made up of boiled meat, peas and potatoes or else soup or suet pudding with portions carefully weighed out according to the age category of the child – so the youngest children got the smallest amount of food.

Supper was a repeat of breakfast – with bread and more of that tasty gruel!

This sort of fare might sound boring by our modern standards but, provided the workhouse was well run and the inmates were given what they were entitled to, it was a reasonably well-balanced diet, though perhaps a little lacking in Vitamin C.

The only variation in the menu was on Christmas Day when you could look forward to a meal of roast beef and plum pudding.

The end of the workhouse

The Poor Law was brought to an end in 1929 and workhouses – now known as ‘institutions’ – passed into the care of local authorities. Any children remaining in them were moved to specialist homes though unfortunately this meant they often saw their parents even less than they had before. Things changed again with the introduction of the Welfare State in 1948 and many former workhouses became state hospitals in the new National Health Service.

As for the workhouse infirmary in Camberwell my grandad was born in, it is now a smart-looking residential apartment block, something he would find hard to conceive of I’m sure. 

Workhouse stories

Besides Charles Dickens’ Oliver Twist, the experience of children in workhouses has also been brought to life by a number of brilliant children’s authors writing in more recent times. Two of my favourites are:

Street Child by Berlie Doherty about a young boy called Jim Jarvis who is carted off to the workhouse with his sick mother. After her tragic death, Jim escapes and ends up in further peril on the streets of Victorian London.

TheTwisted Threads of Polly Freeman by Pippa Goodhart which charts the life of a young girl called Polly, sent to a London workhouse after she and her ‘Aunt’ – a thief – are evicted and made homeless. From there it follows Polly on a journey to Quarry Bank Cotton Mill in Cheshire where she is sent to become a mill-girl apprentice.

(Photo: Ally Sherrick)

Writing Challenge

Imagine you have been forced to enter the workhouse for the first time. Ask yourself these questions:

Why did you have to go there?

Have you come in with your parents? What do you feel about being separated from them if you have? And what about your brothers and sisters?

What are your first impressions of the place? Think about things like the strict rules and routines; the lack of privacy and having to share sleeping quarters; the sort of food you’re given to eat. What do you make of having to go to school? Perhaps it’s for the first time? And what sort of work are you given to do in the afternoons? Are the Master and Matron kind to you, or do they make things a whole lot worse like they did in Oliver Twist?

Do you miss your life outside the workhouse, even though it must have been hard. And do think you might try and run away? Or is it better to stay where you’ll have a roof over your head, food to eat and the chance to learn how to read and write?

Write your thoughts down, then have a go a turning them into the start of a story, a diary or perhaps a comic strip.  Happy writing!  

Ally outside Southwell Workhouse and Infirmary

(Photo: Steve Smith)

Source material for information on the New Poor Law and life in a workhouse comes from 'The Workhouse Southwell' Guidebook published by National Trust.

Ally Sherrick is the award-winning author of stories full of history, mystery and adventure.

BLACK  POWDER, her debut novel about a boy caught up in the Gunpowder Plot, won the  Historical Association’s Young Quills Award. Other titles include THE BURIED CROWN, a wartime tale with a whiff of Anglo-Saxon myth and magic and THE QUEEN’S FOOL, a story of treachery and treason set at the court of King Henry VIII. Ally’s latest book with Chicken House Books, is VITA AND THE GLADIATOR, the story of a young girl’s fight for justice in the high-stakes world of London’s gladiatorial arena. It has been shortlisted for a Young Quills Award.

For more information about Ally and her books visit www.allysherrick.com  You can also follow her on Twitter @ally_sherrick

The Mary Rose: Ship of Stories

In my Tudor-set adventure, The Queen’s Fool, my heroes, young orphan girl, Cat Sparrow and her new-found friend, French boy, Jacques Bonhomme find themselves voyaging across the English Channel to Calais as part of King Henry VIII’s entourage bound for the grand Anglo-French peace celebrations at the Field of Cloth of Gold in June 1520.

Contemporary painting of Henry VIII's flagship, 'The Mary Rose'

The sea journey presented a brilliant opportunity to include an exciting chase scene with the villain which results in poor Jacques falling overboard and which leads on to a dramatic ‘reveal’ that hopefully young readers won’t see coming.

To write these shipboard scenes meant that I needed to understand the layout and construction of Tudor ships, how you might have boarded them – by small boats and a set of ropes, ladders and nets as it turns out – and what life both above and below deck was like for passengers and crew.

A key primary resource proved to be an ‘old friend’ – the wreck of King Henry’s favourite warship and flagship, The Mary Rose, which had been part of the king’s escort of ships that day on the journey across to France.  I’m fortunate enough to live within an hour’s drive of Portsmouth Harbour where, over four centuries after her dramatic sinking at the end of Henry’s reign, the remains of The Mary Rose were discovered and, in 1982, brought to the surface in an event broadcast across the world.

A miraculous resurrection 

In fact it was as a teenager that I paid my first ever visit to see what was left of The Mary Rose, not long after she first went on public display in the mid 1980s in a covered dry dock

at the Portsmouth Historic Dockyard – though at the time the surviving timbers of the wreck were heavily veiled in plastic and being sprayed with water to keep them from drying out. I returned several times over the years as they were further treated with preserving chemicals and then, finally, air-dried. 

'The Mary Rose' as she looks today on display at Portsmouth Historic Dockyard

I was also keen to see the amazing artefacts which had been excavated from the wreck and put on display after conservation, in a new, purpose-built museum on the site. So in a small way I got personally caught up, like so many other visitors over the years, in the story of the exciting discovery, ground-breaking excavation and conservation of the ship.  

But the wreck of The Mary Rose harbours other, equally fascinating stories. These include the part the ship played in the history of the early English navy, how she came to sink on that fateful day back in 1545 and the lives – and deaths – of the men who formed her crew.

Pride of a king

For 34 years after her construction and launch in Portsmouth in 1511, The Mary Rose was the pride of King Henry VIII’s navy. A 600 ton carrack and one of the earliest known examples of a purpose-built sailing warship, she was reputedly built to the young king’s own design. She saw a number of actions over the years in battles and skirmishes against the French navy and in the defence against King James IV of Scotland’s attempted invasion of England. And records also show that she underwent a substantial refit during the 1530s with the addition of a number of extra, heavy guns.

 Portrait of Henry VIII by Hans Holbein

Her final action took place on 19^th July 1545, when she was part of an English fleet of 80 vessels involved in a face-off against over 200 ships of the French navy gathered in the Solent – the stretch of water between Portsmouth Harbour and the Isle of Wight. The French were on a mission of revenge for Henry VIII’s capture of the French town of Boulogne the previous year, and Henry himself came down to watch the action from nearby Southsea Castle.

But what actually caused The Mary Rose to sink? A surviving eye-witness reported that, seeking to engage the enemy, she fired first from her starboard side, then turned about to fire from her port side. But as she made the turn, her sails were caught by a gust of wind and she was blown over. This resulted in her still-open starboard gun-ports taking on water as they dipped below the waterline.

The sinking of the Mary Rose in the Solent (detail from The Cowdray Engraving)

Alternative theories emerged over time including that there had been too many guns and soldiers on board, or that the earlier refit of the vessel had resulted in some fundamental design flaws. There was even the suggestion that the officers or crew might not have been up to the job. The French themselves maintained they had holed the ship with a cannonball, though none of these claims has ever been convincingly substantiated.

Whatever the full story, it took no more than a handful of minutes for The Mary Rose to disappear beneath the waves with the loss of almost the entire crew. Estimates vary but it is believed over 450 men drowned that day with around only 35 survivors. 

A porthole into the past

For me the most intriguing stories are to be found in the huge haul of archaeological treasures painstakingly excavated from the mud of the seabed. These represent a sort of Tudor time-capsule, illuminating both the operation of a ship of Henry VIII’s navy and the day-to-day lives of the mariners, soldiers, gunners and servants on board. Stand-out items include the ship’s bell; the cannon bearing the King’s personal Tudor rose symbol; the chests of Yew longbows and thousands of arrows for use by the archers in battle; the two great brick ovens and cauldrons and the eating utensils used to serve the crew their food, not forgetting the detachable mast-top which crowned the ship’s main mast.

Just some  of the archery bows, arrows and other weapons salvaged from the wreck

Other highlights are the more personal items belonging to individual crew members, all of them male, most young adults and some just boys. These range from leather shoes, jerkins and hats to dice, gaming boards and musical instruments including something called a shawm – an early type of oboe. Also writing materials including ink pots, quill pens and even leather book covers, though the pages have long since rotted away. 

A leather jerkin (left), and a home-made gaming board, fiddle and bundle of needles and thread (right)

                                                             

 Leather book cover 

And then there are tools of the trade belonging to men of the ship’s company such as the carpenter – including his mallet, planes and rulers – and the surgeon, whose belongings – his canisters  of ointments, metal syringes and a bowl to collect the patient’s blood during blood-letting – I found particularly intriguing because of a crucial scene I set in the surgeon’s cabin on board ship in The Queen’s Fool. 

 Items from the surgeon's chest     

Finally, there are the remains – human and animal – which tell their own tales. For example the bones of men believed to have been archers, which show the stress caused to arm and shoulder muscles and joints by the regular shooting of many arrows. And the isotope analysis of teeth which has allowed historians to demonstrate that the crew were not only of English origin but that some of them came from places as far afield as the Mediterranean and North Africa.

'Hatch', the ship's dog

And perhaps my favourite find of all – the skeleton of a small dog discovered outside the carpenter’s cabin.  Nicknamed Hatch by the museum team and identified from his bones as a sort of terrier, similar to a modern day Jack Russell, he is believed to have been the ship’s ratter. And as relatively few rat bones were found in the wreck, the museum staff reckon he must have been pretty good at his job!

Scarcely any personal information is known about the individuals who went down with King Henry VIII’s great flagship that day nearly 500 years ago. But through the treasure-trove of objects rescued from the deep, we are part way at least to bringing them and their stories back to life.

 More information about the fascinating and inspirational artefacts and stories connected with The Mary Rose is available from the museum website here.

View Ally’s video on The Mary Rose on YouTube Kids here.

Ally Sherrick is the award-winning author of stories full of history, mystery and adventure.

BLACK  POWDER, her debut novel about a boy caught up in the Gunpowder Plot, won the  Historical Association’s Young Quills Award. Other titles include THE BURIED CROWN, a wartime tale with a whiff of Anglo-Saxon myth and magic and THE QUEEN’S FOOL, a story of treachery and treason set at the court of King Henry VIII. Ally’s latest book, published in February 2023 with Chicken House Books, is VITA AND THE GLADIATOR, the story of a young girl’s fight for justice in the high-stakes world of London’s gladiatorial arena.

Ally’s books are available from bookshop.org.uk and all good high street bookshops

For more information visit Ally's website. You can also follow her on Twitter @ally_sherrick

World Book Day special - The Time Tunnellers step into the shoes of a favourite character

Happy World Book Day everyone!

We’ve got some great news. We’re thrilled to be able to announce that we have a new member of the team!

Author Matt Wainwright

Matt Wainwright, a previous guest poster for the Time Tunnellers is joining us to help dig for the stories in history – and share his love of reading and writing historical fiction for young people.

Matt is the author of the fantastic adventure, Out of the Smoke (Wakeman Trust), which tells the story of young Billy the chimney sweep who, when he finds himself plunged into the criminal underworld of Victorian London, must battle to survive against notorious gang leader, Archie Miller and his friends. Help, when it arrives, comes from a very unexpected source in the shape of the famous educational reformer, Lord Shaftesbury –  the ‘Poor Man’s Earl’. But will Billy’s pride let him accept the offer? And if he turns on Archie, will it mean freedom or certain death?

What’s it like to be joining our merry band, Matt?

'It's an honour! From the first time I saw the Time Tunnellers assemble I was struck by how enthusiastic and knowledgeable you all are. It's a fantastic initiative, sharing your love for history and the stories it contains, and I feel privileged to be a part of it. I'm also excited to share some of the things I've learned - there is so much to discover in the past, and leading children (and adults!) down some of those paths, exploring the nooks and crannies, will be a real joy. Thank you for inviting me into the team!'

Our pleasure!  We’re really looking forward to having you on board too!

In this week’s blog we’re celebrating World Book Day – and Matt’s arrival on the team – by stepping into the shoes of a favourite character in a great historical fiction read for young people. 

Ally Sherrick: Boy in The Book of Boy by Catherine Gilbert Murdock
(Published by Chicken House Books)

I studied medieval history at university so it was brilliant to have the chance to travel back to those times again in the company of Murdock’s plucky underdog hero, ‘Boy’. When the story opens it is the year 1350 and Boy is looking after the goats that belonged to the lady of the manor before she was carried off by the plague. Boy is different from other people. He can talk with the animals and birds. But he is also taunted and called ‘Monster’ by his fellow villagers because of the hump on his back. So when a mysterious pilgrim stranger – Secundus – arrives in the village and offers Boy the chance to join him on a quest for seven priceless relics – ‘rib tooth thumb shin dust skull tomb’ – he decides to take the risk and join him.

I loved accompanying Boy as he experienced all the incredible sights, sounds and smells of the places he and his new master encountered on their long journey through France and across the sea to the tomb of St Peter in Rome.  And listening in on the conversations he has with the animals and birds he meets on the way. But it is the special secret he keeps hidden from others and which finally brings him the freedom and happiness he craves which enthralled me the most.

A great read for anyone who enjoys historical stories with a twist of magic realism.

Barbara Henderson: Moss in The Executioner's Daughter by Jane Hardstaff

(Published by Egmont)

I credit two books with sealing my love of historical fiction: Mary Hoffman's Troubadour and this, The Executioner's Daughter. 

The reign of Henry VIII is famous for its many executions - but what if your father is the one whose job it is to do the deed, again and again? Meet Moss. Growing up in the infamous Tower of London with only her taciturn dad for company, she longs to escape. The river flows past, carrying everything away with it - could Moss leave it all behind and find freedom? 

I loved the vivid descriptions of Tudor London, the dangers and secrets Moss has to navigate, and her reluctant friendship with streetwise Salter who survives by thieving. I was with Moss every step of the way, particularly when she realises that there are stranger, deeper powers at work beneath the surface of the Thames. 

My favourite chapter by a country mile was the one about the Frost Fair when the Thames froze over entirely - something that really happened! Moss encounters terrible danger, but so much beauty too. One of those books that stayed with me from the moment I read it almost a decade ago. 

Catherine Randall: ‘Cat’ in The Diamond of Drury Lane by Julia Golding (Egmont)

This thrilling adventure story set in and around the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane, London is narrated by one of the most engaging fictional characters I’ve ever come across. Cat Royal is an orphan who has lived backstage in the theatre ever since she was rescued as a baby by the famous playwright and theatre owner, Mr Sheridan.

As soon as you open the book, you are in Cat’s shoes and completely immersed in the world of late 18th century London. Cat thinks that she is simply guarding a diamond for Mr Sheridan, hidden somewhere in the theatre, but then she becomes friends with the mysterious new Prompt and a talented young African violinist – the new sensation at Drury Lane. It soon becomes clear that much more is at stake than a mere jewel. You experience the sights, smells and characters of Covent Garden market, the backstage of the Theatre Royal and the drawing rooms of Grosvenor Square as if you were there, while Cat and her friends – a wonderful mixture of boys from street gangs and refined young aristocrats – battle to save the ‘diamond’ who is really hiding at the theatre, not to mention their own skins.

This novel is a heady combination of vivid, engaging characters with authentic historical and geographical detail.  

I think Cat is one of the great heroines of modern children’s literature. I couldn't put the book down.

Jeannie Waudby: Ellen in The Secrets Act by Alison Weatherby (Chicken House)

It would be scary but also interesting and exciting to time-travel back to the Second World War in Ellen’s shoes. She is one of two teenage main characters in The Secrets Act. The story begins with her journey to the codebreaking HQ, Bletchley Park, where she is going to become a codebreaker. I once met a 90-year-old lady on a train and she told me she had worked there during the war. When I asked her what she did, she looked at me and said: ‘It was secret.’

I felt the sheer strangeness of this situation through Ellen’s eyes, travelling from Wales on her own, arriving in the pitch dark of the blackout. Everything is strange and even asking questions feels forbidden and dangerous. This is a tense and exciting story – Ellen meets new people; so many of them young. But always there is the question: who can you trust? This story doesn’t glamourize Bletchley Park; in fact in many ways it feels like a hostile environment with threats and dangers lurking round every corner – including the danger of accidentally committing treason. But it’s also a story of true friendship. 

I recommend this book as a thought-provoking journey into a time of war.

Matt Wainwright: Stepping into the shoes of … Sig Andersson in Revolver by Marcus Sedgwick

Part of me wouldn’t actually enjoy stepping into Sig’s shoes. Throughout most of the book Revolver, Sig is threatened, bullied and held hostage in his family’s remote Alaskan cabin by the enigmatic and seemingly unstoppable Wolff - which would not make for a particularly pleasant experience!

However, Sedgwick wrote the book so well that you can’t help but feel that you’re right there in the scene with the characters. He conjures up the vast frozen wilderness of the far north of turn-of-the-century America in vivid, startling detail: the crack of ice, the buffeting of the wind, the crunch of freshly-fallen snow. You can see every clouded breath, smell the pungent odours of oil and gunpowder and fur, feel the creeping fingers of perpetual winter worming their way through every crevice … It’s a masterclass of description!

And in the end, of course (no spoilers!) Sig learns how to grow beyond his fear and find a way to stage a near-impossible escape. He’s the kind of character I love: one who starts the story as a person we recognise but wouldn’t necessarily want to be, but who gradually becomes someone we can admire. Which just goes to show that, no matter what era they are from, people throughout history are like us in many ways, with so much for us to learn.

Susan Brownrigg: My Friend the Octopus by Lindsay Galvin
(published by Chicken House)

There is something very calming about wandering around an aquarium - the low light, the gentle movement of the fish and it is the perfect place for 12-year-old Vinnie Fyfe to find solace when she is abruptly sent away by her milliner mother to live with her aunt.

Vinnie loves to draw, and she is soon enchanted by the beauty of the aquatic life around her and especially a fascinating new arrival - an octopus! She quickly realises she has a special connection with the cephalopod and that they can communicate using colour.

I was enchanted by the gorgeous descriptions of how the octopus moves and learned lots about these intelligent, powerful creatures.

This wonderful adventure story is set in Victorian Brighton and the aquarium there - the world's oldest - still exists with it's beautiful period arcade having been lovingly restored. 

I loved exploring the aquarium with Vinnie and meeting her new friends - Charlie and Temitayo - who team up to solve a mystery which opens their eyes to cruelty close to home.

This book is so gripping you will think you have been grabbed by a tentacle or eight!

On this week's You Tube video the Time Tunnellers and our guest authors share their recommended historical reads for World Book Day - to watch CLICK HERE!

 

 

 

The place that time forgot – a journey back to Roman Britain by Ally Sherrick

When I was about eight years old, our parents took me and my younger sister on a family holiday down to Cornwall. I remember, among other things, visiting St. Michael’s Mount, exploring Land’s End and beachcombing on the white sands at Sennen Cove. But the stand-out memory was the trip we made to the ancient ruins of the village of Chysauster (pronounced Chy-zoist-er).

Set a couple of miles inland from the town of Penzance on a remote hillside nestled amid the bracken and wild grasses, the low stone walls are all that remain of a small Romano-British community which archaeological evidence suggests was probably occupied from the first to the third centuries AD when the Roman Empire was at its height.

I still have the little folded card leaflet and black and white postcards I bought on that trip – treasured possessions for a keen young historian who, inspired by the recent blockbuster exhibition of the Tutankhamun treasures at the British Museum, harboured an overwhelming, though ultimately unfulfilled passion to be an Egyptologist.

I remember running from one ruined house to another trying to imagine what life must have been like for the people who lived there and who, all those many centuries ago, had called it home.

Back then, it seemed to me that the place was at the end of the world. On a return trip this summer retracing the footsteps of my younger self, though there’s now a small ticket office and shop, English Heritage, who care for it, have thankfully ensured the site still retains the same sense of remoteness and beauty it had all those years ago.

 

 A walk back in time through the ruins of Chysauster Romano-British village

For the Romanised population based in the far distant capital of Londinium (London) and the south of England, it certainly would have seemed a very long way from home. As was the case in what is now Scotland, the Romans never brought the region under formal control, or made an attempt to settle there either. There are no known Roman roads in Cornwall and only three military forts and one villa have been identified to date. And the nearest Roman administrative centre, Isca Dumnoniorum – or Exeter as it is known today – was over 100 miles away.

The lifestyle of the close-knit community of around fifty to seventy people who lived at Chysauster had far more in common with that of their Iron Age ancestors who had widely settled and farmed the area for hundreds of years before the Roman invasion of AD 43. Indeed, the village itself may well stand on the site of an earlier Iron Age settlement.

 

 Artist’s impression of how Chysauster may have looked in the Second Century AD

The ruins the visitor can explore today are the remains of ten ‘courtyard’ houses, a design unique to this part of Cornwall where over 30 known settlements of the type have been identified. Nearly all the houses are detached with a large, unroofed central courtyard where livestock was probably kept and domestic work carried out. The families would have lived and slept in the covered rooms leading off from the courtyard. Each house also had a garden plot where they would have grown vegetables and may have kept pigs.

 

Ruins of one of the courtyard houses

Unfortunately, there’s nothing to tell us about the personal stories of the individuals who lived here. However they did leave behind clues to suggest how they lived. This includes a large number of spindle whorls – small stone and clay discs fitted to wooden spindles for making thread from wool – which provide evidence they kept sheep and wove cloth to wear and perhaps for trading purposes too. Meanwhile the numbers of grinding basins and quern stones used to grind grain into flour together with ancient pollen samples taken from the surrounding fields show that they grew cereal crops. 

 

Ancient spindle whorls. These are not from Chysauster but give a good idea of what they look like

While excavating the site, archaeologists also found a lump of tin and evidence of metalworking waste in one of the houses. This suggests the villagers possibly carried out prospecting for locally occurring tin-ore and might have smelted it down into ingots to trade for other items with surrounding communities and other people from further afield.

It’s not known why Chysauster was eventually deserted in the third century. There’s no sign of any conflict which might have caused the families living there to flee.

But perhaps the greatest mystery of all is the structure on the edge of the village known as a fogou.

 

The entrance to the fogou at Chysauster

The word comes from the Cornish for ‘cave’ and describes an underground, stone-built tunnel which usually dates from the late Iron Age period. The fogou at Chysauster hasn’t been excavated, but in the one at the nearby ruined village of Carn Euny, it’s possible to walk through the tunnel and into a large, circular chamber.

 

The inside of the fogou chamber at the ruined village of Carn Euny

In the past it was thought that such structures might have been used for storing food or valuables, or as hiding places during times of conflict. The more popular theory today is that they were probably used for some sort of ritual or ceremonial purpose.  This is just the sort of uncertainty that a story-teller can have fun with. All you need is a pinch of curiosity and the willingness to let your imagination take you where it will – a bit like my eight year old self.

Finally, to let you in to a little secret. This might just be the approximate time, though not the exact place, in which my upcoming novel is set. All to be revealed in early 2023!

Writing Prompt

Imagine you live in a small settlement like the one at Chysauster. One night, something happens. Something that threatens you and your family and which means you need to hide. You’ve never been into the fogou before. Perhaps it’s normally forbidden. But now it might be your only chance of survival. What does it feel like running through the darkness to get to it? Then stooping and crawling inside? Who are you with? What are you feeling? Did you have to leave anyone or anything precious behind? And most important of all, will you manage to get out alive?

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Ally Sherrick is the author of books full of history, mystery and adventure including Black Powder, winner of the Historical Association’s Young Quills Award 2017, The Buried Crown and Tudor-Set adventure, The Queen’s Fool. She is published by Chicken House Books and her books are widely available in bookshops and online. You can find out more about her and her books at www.allysherrick.com and follow her on Twitter: @ally_sherrick