Dorset Folk Tales for Children E-Book

Tim Laycock

• Herausgeber: The History Press
• Kategorie: Für Kinder und Jugendliche
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 115

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2019

Beschreibung

Dorset is full of mythical creatures from Britain's most legendary folk tales, including demons, dragons, Jack-o'-lanterns, giants and mermaids. Read on to bring the landscape of the country's rolling hills and Jurassic coast alive, and let author Tim Laycock inspire you to rediscover the county you thought you knew.

Leseprobe

Thanks to Zoe for her beautiful illustrations, and to Rosie, Bessie, Barley and Angela for listening to the stories and making many helpful suggestions.

First published 2019

The History Press

97 St George’s Place

Cheltenham

GL50 3QB

www.thehistorypress.co.uk

© Tim Laycock, 2019

Illustrations © Zoe Barnish, 2019

The right of Tim Laycock to be identified as the Author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without the permission in writing from the Publishers.

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

ISBN 978 0 7509 9283 1

Typesetting and origination by The History Press

Printed and bound in Great Britain by TJ International Ltd.

eBook converted by Geethik Technologies

Contents

About the Author

Introduction

  1   The Old Man of the Sea

  2   Sidney Northover’s Boots

  3   The Wonderful Crocodile

  4   Bincombe Bumps

  5   Giant Grumble

  6   The Drowners

  7   Where’s the Hare?

  8   Jack and the Boat

  9   The Map

10   Jack with a Lantern

11   The Beggar’s Wedding

12   Granny Parsons and the Dorset Dumplings

13   The Merman

14   The Christmas Bull

About the Author

Tim Laycock grew up in North Dorset and loves singing the songs and telling the stories of the area. He works as a folk singer, musician and actor, and is fascinated by the history and culture of Dorset.

Introduction

Dorset is full of stories. Maybe it’s something to do with the spectacular countryside and the Jurassic coast, or perhaps it’s the wealth of ancient monuments and hill forts that surround us. Everywhere there are stories of strange happenings, heroic deeds, comedies and tragedies that put us in touch with the people that lived here in the past.

If you like these tales, why not come on down to Dorset and visit a few of the places where these stories come from? You could have a picnic on the beach at Burton Bradstock and see if you can spot the hotel that Alice longs for in ‘The Old Man of the Sea’. You could climb up on to Poundbury Camp in Dorchester and look down on the water meadows of the River Frome, where the dragon disappeared. Go for a walk along the Ridgeway and listen to the music at Bincombe Bumps. Stroll around Dewlish, where Sidney Northover found the mammoth, or have tea in the park at Littlebredy, where Reuben Hansford went to school. I hope you enjoy these stories as much as I enjoy finding them and telling them!

Tim Laycock, 2019

ALONG TIME AGO, when flax was grown in the fields around Burton Bradstock, there was an old fisherman called George Hansford. He lived with his wife Alice in a tiny cottage just behind the Hive beach, not far from the sea. A tumbledown kind of an old place it was, too, with one chimney, two little rooms downstairs, and a bedroom and a box room upstairs. The front room was filled with musical instruments – banjos, mandolins, squeezeboxes and mouth-organs; and whenever George made a bit of extra money from the fishing (which wasn’t often), he’d buy another himself another instrument. There was no bathroom indoors, just an old privy in a little shed at the end of the garden! The garden looked like a shipyard: bits and pieces of masts, sails, fishing nets, fish boxes, anchors – all the things you need to catch fish in the sea.

Now, George had been at sea for forty years and what he didn’t know about fishing wasn’t worth knowing. But fishing is a hard way of making a living and there was never much money to spare, so when people began to move into the village and build nice bungalows along the road to the beach, with big picture windows and indoor bathrooms, Alice began to grumble.

‘George, you need to work harder. You should catch more fish, and then we can have a proper, warm bathroom and an indoor loo. I’m fed up with that privy, especially in the winter.’

The old fisherman just grunted. He carried on baiting his crab pots. He loaded up his tackle and walked down to his boat with his wife’s words ringing in his ears. He rowed out to sea, set the sail and sniffed the air. It always cheered him up, heading out to sea with the spray flying around his face, and the prospect of a few hours of peace and quiet bobbing around on the ocean.

He dropped his crab pots, cast his net and sat down to wait. After a while, he saw the net floats bobbing, and began to haul in, hoping for a decent catch. As the net came over the side of the boat, he saw an unfamiliar shape tangled up amongst the seaweed and the fish. The creature thrashed around in the mesh of the net and George stared, completely astonished. Was it a fish? It certainly had a long tail. Was it a seal? It certainly had sad brown eyes and whiskers. Was it even a very strange child? It was too old to be a baby, all wrinkled and wild looking.

The fisherman scratched his head. ‘Well, I’m blowed! Whatever are you, and what do I do with you, eh?’

The sea creature wriggled round and sat on the side of the boat, and George could see that it had a long beard entwined with seaweed, and most of its body was covered in shimmering blue, silver and green scales. But it had arms just like a human and it stared at the fisherman, then buried its head in its hands and burst into tears. The sobs were pitiful to hear and George felt very sorry for the fish-man.

‘Now then mate,’ he said, ‘don’t take on like that. I won’t hurt you. There’s plenty of other fish in my net. I don’t need to eat you too.’

‘Oh thank you, thank you!’ said the fish-man. ‘I am the Old Man of the Sea. And for your kindness, I can grant you one wish. What shall it be? Anything at all, just ask!’

The fisherman thought about a new boat, or a new banjo. But then he remembered what his wife had said about the bathroom, so he said, ‘It’s not for me really, it’s for Alice, my wife. She says our house is very cold in winter and we’ve only got an outside privy. Could we have a cosy indoor bathroom do you think?’

The Old Man of the Sea smiled. ‘Of course, consider it done,’ he said. And with that, he did a backflip off the side of the boat, waved his tail and disappeared into the sea.

George finished hauling in his nets and set sail for home. As he approached the beach, he looked through his telescope and saw his wife waiting for him on the seashore, and as he got closer he could see that she was dancing and singing.

‘George!’ she shouted. ‘George, come and look! Come and see what’s happened. It’s wonderful! I can’t believe it!’

The fisherman hauled his boat up on the shingle and followed his wife back to the cottage. There, sure enough, was a sparkling, shiny new bathroom: washbasin, bath, and toilet. The taps gleamed like silver and the tiles glinted in the light.

‘How did it happen?’ she said. ‘Where did you get the money?’

Then the fisherman told his wife about the creature in the net and the wish, and that night they sat down to a good meal of fresh fish, happy as could be.

However, the next morning, Alice said, ‘George, I’ve been thinking …’ This was a bad sign; it usually meant that she would ask him to do something!

‘Well…’ Alice said, ‘This story about the Old Man of the Sea … is it true?’

‘Of course it is, my dear,’ said George.

‘Well prove it! I’ve been thinking that you were a bit daft, just to ask for an indoor bathroom. You could have asked for a nice new bungalow with a picture window, like the others up the road. I think you should go and catch that fish-man again, and this time ask him for nice new bungalow.’

George stared at her. ‘You must be crazy,’ he said. ‘The chances of me catching him again must be one in ten thousand. He’ll have swum off somewhere else, for certain.’

‘Go and try,’ she said.

So the fisherman loaded his nets and crab pots, and set off back to sea. He took his banjo with him and dropped anchor next to some rocks, where he always knew he would catch fish. Then he picked up his banjo and began to sing:

Man of the sea,

Come listen to me;

For Alice, my wife,

The joy of my life,

Has sent me to beg a boon of thee.

At first, nothing happened, but then the sea began to bubble and out jumped the Old Man of the Sea, and perched on the side of the boat.

‘Ahoy there, shipmate!’ he said. ‘How do you like the bathroom?’

‘Yes, it’s very nice,’ replied the fisherman. ‘But Alice, well, she’s not content with that! She wants a bungalow like the ones further up the road …’

‘D’you mean the ones with the picture windows?’ asked the Old Man of the Sea.

‘Yes, that’s it, if you don’t mind?’

The Old Man of the Sea looked thoughtful. ‘Well, that’s a second wish, but I suppose I can allow it. Consider it done,’ he said. And with that he did a double backflip off the side of the boat, waved his tail and disappeared into the sea.

The fisherman finished hauling in his nets and set sail for home. As he approached the beach, he looked through his telescope and saw his wife waiting for him on the seashore, and as he got closer he could see that she was dancing and singing.

‘George!’ she shouted. ‘George, come and look! Come and see what’s happened. It’s wonderful! I can’t believe it.’

The fisherman hauled his boat up onto the shingle and followed his wife back – but where was his house? It had completely disappeared. And there, sure enough, in its place was a beautiful new bungalow.

‘It’s what I’ve always wanted!’ she said. ‘Come inside, my dear, and mind you wipe your feet!’

Then George told his wife about the song and the banjo, and how the Old Man of the Sea sat on the boat, and the second wish; and that night they sat down to a good meal of fresh fish, happy as could be.

All went well for a week or so, and then one morning the fisherman noticed his wife looking out from her great front window. She was gazing towards the sea.

‘What are you looking at?’ he asked.

‘I’ve been thinking George … you could have asked for a nice hotel, like the one on the headland there. Then you could give up the fishing and be head waiter. There are so many tourists round here these days, we’d make a fortune! I could be the manager. Go and catch that fish-man again, and this time ask him for a hotel!’

George stared at her. ‘You must be crazy,’ he said. ‘The chances of catching the fish-man again must be one in a million. He’ll have swum off somewhere else, for certain!’

‘Go and try,’ she said.

So the fisherman loaded his nets and crab pots and set off back to sea. He took his mandolin with him and dropped his anchor over a sandbank, where he always knew he would catch fish. Then he picked up his mandolin and began to sing:

Man of the sea,

Come listen to me;

For Alice, my wife,

The joy of my life,

Has sent me to beg a boon of thee.

At first, nothing happened, but then the sea began to bubble and out jumped the fish- man, and perched on the side of the boat.

‘Good morning, matey,’ he said. ‘How do you like the bungalow?’

The fisherman groaned. ‘As far as I’m concerned, it’s perfect.’

‘So why have you come back?’

‘It’s not for me,’ he said. ‘It’s Alice – she wants a hotel, just like the one on the headland. Can you help us?’

The fish-man rubbed his chin and thought hard. ‘Well, I suppose three wishes might be allowed – but only three, mind. Consider it done.’ And with that he did a triple backflip off the side of the boat, waved his tail and disappeared into the sea.

The fisherman finished hauling in his nets and set sail for home. As he approached the beach, he looked through his telescope and saw his wife waiting for him on the top of the cliff above the beach, dancing and singing. Behind her, its great glass windows reflecting the setting sun, was a brand new hotel with a great flashing sign, surrounded with a beautiful garden, a tennis court and a swimming pool.

‘George!’ she shouted. ‘George, come and look! Come and see what’s happened. It’s wonderful! I can’t believe it!’

The fisherman hauled his boat up onto the shingle, and made his way up to the hotel. And for a month or so, the business thrived, and Alice was very happy.

But one morning, as they were sat having coffee in the sun room overlooking Lyme Bay, she said, ‘George, I’ve been thinking …’

His heart sank; he knew what was coming!