Yesterday, on the second day of this, our third official heatwave of the English summer, I was meant to be catching a bus to Worksop then a train, on what is known as the Robin Hood line, to Mansfield, to meet a poet friend, but I checked on the trains before I set out and found that while one train was running towards Mansfield, there would be none coming back unless I wanted to take a near-two-hour rail replacement bus. Anybody who endured that really ought to get a gong in the next honours list. So instead we agreed to meet in Nottingham, to and from which trains were thankfully running via Sheffield. When I arrived in Nottingham, I noticed that the reason given for the cancellation of the Worksop to Mansfield (thence to Nottingham) trains was the ‘severe weather forecast’. Well, it was certainly hot – 30 degrees – and unrelentingly so, yet it begged the question that if this is the impact of climate change on our transport (and other) infrastructure now, then what will it be like in 20, 30, 50, etc. years’ time? Surely even the most rabid of Reform voters living in or near Mansfield (the constituency of Lee Anderson, ‘30p Lee’ himself, is next door) must now be able to recognise, and maybe, just maybe, even start to worry about, that. Anyway, we had an excellent afternoon of chewing the fat, bemoaning various aspects of the poetry world – particularly the egregious nepotism in prize-judging – and toasting Count Binface.
All that is a roundabout way of saying that it’s just too damn hot to do anything much, isn’t it, and least of all writing. Even reading – to any acceptable degree of concentration – is far from easy. Nonetheless, I’ve ploughed through a Beverley Bie Brahic poetry collection from 2016, Hunting the Boar, CB Editions, quality-wise a book of two halves, the first being fine, especially poems set in small French communes, but the second not so much. Now, I’m reading Rory Waterman’s excellent Devils in the Details (Five Leaves Publications, available here), his entertaining, erudite, and beautifully-written yomp around Lincolnshire in search of folklore.
On the publication front, I had a poem in the latest issue of The Fig Tree, available here, last week, about the deputy headmaster of my secondary school all those years ago. My thanks to the editor, Tim Fellows. The three poems by the featured poet, Laura Strickland, are important ones, in how they reclaim the voices and lives of the victims of Peter Sutcliffe. They reminded me that Blake Morrison’s 1985 poem ‘The Ballad of the Yorkshire Ripper’, available here, consisting of 100 quatrains written in West Yorkshire dialect and the cornerstone of his 1987 Chatto & Windus collection of the same name, is all but forgotten nowadays. The ethics of a male poet attempting to write such a poem have undoubtedly shifted since then; however, Morrison’s unequivocal and (arguably too graphically) unflinching contextualisation of Sutcliffe’s terrible crimes within the very widespread misogyny of his family, friends and wider society and culture remains, to my mind, largely admirable and ahead of its time.
Over on this blog’s younger sibling, my Substack, I’ve posted the first two of a series of pieces on items which relate to my family history. They can be read here and here. I’d be delighted if you were to read them.
Surfing the heatwave
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Responses
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What a wonderful post, Matthew! You certainly brought your deputy headmaster to life in your poem! What a strange, erratic, troubled man he must have been. I enjoyed reading the other poems in ‘The Fig Tree’ and also your work on your family history. All that noble suffering! I have slowly realised over the years that poetry is the only way to put into words the feelings and emotions we all have. I can’t do it at all and I salute those who can. Yes; I believe née is still used. Well, I still use it!
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Thank you so much, Clare.
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P.S. Hoorah for Count Binface!
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A quick question of family history – did you find any information on him apart from the notes in the article? I’ve just done a quick search and see he seems to have served in the Great War, being invalided out and awarded a Silver War Badge. I can get you more details if you want, but don’t want to waste time if you already have them.
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Hi Simon, Thanks very much for that, which is news to me. I suspect it might be another James Goose, of whom there were probably a good few in Norfolk, though I guess it’s possible it was him. It certainly doesn’t fit with the narrative which my mum spun, presumably from what her mother had told her. But maybe she had it wrong and he got his facial wound in France. Intriguing!
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James John Goose, aged 50, attested for the Labour Corps in June 1919 and served until May 1920. I know nothing about why someone would join the LC in 1919 – there is mention of enlistment under an Army Order but I can’t find any details of it. His number was 704018.
The details on the form show he enlisted in the Norfolk Regt in 1886 and served until discharge in 1907.
In the 1911 census he is listed as an Army Pensioner and Postman (He joined the GPO in July 1908 and there are other men listed as joining around that time who were called Goshawke and Gosling – just thought you might like the ornithological detail).
He enlisted again in August 1914 and was discharged in September 1916 under Kings Regulations Para 392 sub section xvi – “No longer physically fit for service”. He is shown on the Silver War Badge Roll as not serving overseas and being discharged through “sickness”, though it could include things like poor dental work, being worn out and having piles. Those are all real life examples.
He served in 55 Protection Company and the Royal Defence Corps. Regimental No 26289. Details of the RDC etc can be found online – Protection Companies were used for protecting things like the Manchester Ship Canal and the bases at Lowestoft and they released the fitter, younger men for service overseas.
This is the number that allows us to link him to the SWB roll and index card.
In 1921 census he is shown as a school caretaker at the Colman Road Open Air School (which is written about on the web). His address in 1921 is the same as the address on his 1919 attestation papers.
In the 1911 and 1921 Censuses his son is shown as Rosslyn, so I’m sure it all links back to your man, though the name is rendered Roslin in the WW1 records and the name of the ship.
If you go to the Reasearch Page on the website of the Peterborough Military History Group you will find articles on the National Reserve (which became the protection Companies) and the silver War badge (SWB). https://www.peterboroughmilitaryhistorygroup.co.uk/
The wound could well have been from the Boer War. It’s not in the official casualty roll, but not everything was noted. You might need to access his earlier records – in a badly timed economy drive I recently cancelled my subscription to the service that would have given me access.
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Thanks very much for all that – very kind of you. I’ll investigate further.
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Matthew Paul: Poetry & Stuff 
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