Ilkley Rocks

Given the Gazette’s refusal (well, okay, they’ve just ignored) to print my latest epistle, here it is. In response to the latest attempt to sell the ‘Panorama Stones are modern inventions’ line.

Gavin Edwards has once again used your columns to promote his pet theory
of the Victorian embellishment of the Panorama STone(s). The latest
account (23 Nov) seems to provide no more evidence than the previous story
(carried in July 2004). In the meantime, an exhibition at the Manor
House has also promoted the theory. Are we to take it that this is now
the official view of the Bradford Museums Service, and therefore is an
explanation for the wilful neglect of these important carvings?

Mr. Edwards’ case rests on two pieces of evidence. Drawings given to the
museum in 1880, and a lecture given in 1913. As yet, he has proved no
date of completion for the drawings, so we are unable to say when they
were done. What we do have, however, is the drawing of J. Romilly Allen
accompanying his article of 1879 (‘The Prehistoric Rock Sculptures of
Ilkley’), and we also have Allen’s and Dr. Call’s account of the rocks.
All of these point to the ladder motif being present. Allen was a fairly
scrupulous draughtsman and was more prone to leaving elements out than
including extra (see his drawing of the Badger Stone for instance).

As to the lecture, he is taking as evidence the talk given by Gill in
1913, at which point Gill is 63, and talking of events forty years
earlier. Against this we have the research and accounts of Allen, Dr.
Call, J.H. Turner, and Dr. Little. All were researching and writing in
the 1880s, all believe in the ladder motif and none mention any rumours
or suspicion surrounding the markings.

Indeed, Little worked with the Ilkley Local Board to relocate the stones
at considerable expense and effort in 1890. Are we to assume that none
of these people ever had a local wander up to them and mention that ‘old
Ambrose done those markings.’? Or is Mr. Edwards implying a massive conspiracy?

Simply put, there is little evidence that these markings were added in
late Victorian times. There is ample that the ladder motif was present
in the 1870s. English Heritage continues to refer to the stone(s) as
being, “one of the finest examples of rock art in the north of England,
if not in the British Isles.” So why does Mr. Edwards continue to press
his line? Why the not-so-subtle campaign to downgrade the importance of
the stones?

Can it be anything to do with their wilful neglect, and the
unwillingness (whatever they say) of anyone to move the stones to the
Manor House? What has happened to the Dr. Little Heritage Group, and why
have they not been quoted over this story?

These might be rather more worthy of coverage than repetition of an
interesting though completely unproved theory.

So, after all that, the Moor remains in Bradford’s hands.

But selling off Silver Well Cottage to finance improvements? Why? It smacks of selling off the family silver. What happens next time, in a few years, when Bradford still hasn’t provided the money the moor requires?

Retaining ownership is fine, as long as they start increasing the amount of money spent on it. Most cultural institutions over the past ten years have produced audits reflecting their impact in terms of cash, and other instrumental effects (help with social inclusion, etc.), in order to make their case for increased grants.

Given the amount of tourist money the Moor brings into Bradford, the £10,000 per year provided by the Council was shameful. Given also the agenda around health, there are probably other funds and grants that can be applied for, without selling off local assets (and without re-introducing shooting without any consultation as happened last year).

Actually, talking of other funds, our research elves dug up this story from a couple of years back–how the moor and other areas had received £850,000 of extra support back in 2003. So where’s the moor’s share of this money gone? Also note Danny Jackson suggesting the new group then created–SCOSPA–was the vehicle to receive a lot more money from European and other sources. So was the local trust ever needed?

This was a comment left by Cllr Hawkesworth. While I have criticised and name-called in the past, some things (like our beloved moor) are too important, so I completely endorse all comments.

I’m going up there later, had looked forward to spending a few hours on the moor (it being my birthday and all), but, now…

May I please trespass on your hospitality to give visitors to your blog some news about the Moor? Although you cannot see from the town, 30% of Ilkley Moor is burned out and dead. This includes the most ecologically important sites, the best grazing for sheep and a good proportion of the grouse habitat. I am meeting English Nature and DEFRA tomorrow to discuss what I fear will be a long road to recovery. All who love our town and moor must work together to assist this goal. I may not agree with all that is said to me, I may not act on all suggestions put to me, but I do listen. I am very happy to listen now. The only thing I am not interested in is points scoring. We all value the work of our Fire Service, but I must in addition record our grateful thanks to our own Council staff, the employees of neighbouring estates and the farmers for the huge efforts they put in to contain the fire. I am sorry to have taken up so much space.

with devastation so vast, perhaps local minor hatreds should be forgotten?

*sobs*

More on the trust idea from the minutes of Bradford council (it’s a cached google version of a pdf).

Given that the management document suggests that 5K is all that is spent on the moor by Bradford (which sort of makes the management document unattainable), the notion of the trust is to allow an independent body to apply for more funding. Of course, with the very generous precept IPC organizes for itself, there is a pot of money ready and waiting to improve the environment.

Those opposed seem to be suggesting that all the moor needs is more brass, which is true. But its unlikely to be increased by Bradford. Better by far to return it to local control. Before going forwards, though, would the trust consist of the usual busybodies? Would there be elections (after all, according the the Middelton settlement, we all own the moor)? Would the people of Ilkley have a say in what happens, or would it be like everything else, and decided in the tory club and the golf club (Ilkley, not Ben Rhydding), or in the gated community on OWler Park Road?

But if one of the ideas is considered, selling off Silver Well Cottage, I know at least two people who might be very interested.

Apparently young chap Fraser is on the steam wireless tomorrow (24th May) talking about the Moor. You and Yours, 12pm. Or do I mean am. Anyway, its midday. And I daresay you can hear it on the ‘listen again’ facility at the beeb’s website.

By way of the rather lovely clickrich who I keep meaning to link to (and now have) an image of a memorial to a bomber that crashed on t’Moor during the war. I know nothing about this. Must have completely missed the story due to being over on the wrong side of the Pennines. Maverickapollo has the full story linked here. Can someone give me directions please?

Visiting the ‘Get Wet, Get Well’ exhibition at the Manor House, I was struck by the content of some of Fred Reynolds’ cartoons, published in (presumably) the Gazette or the Free Press during the first decade of the last century.

This was a time when there was considerable disquiet about the amount of money being spent on new public buildings (the Town Hall and Kings Hall), which was being raised from the taxpayer with only the slightest nod of the head towards democracy. It was a time when there were real concerns about changes being made to the moor to take away the ‘wildness’ and make it suitable for visitors. It was also a time when concerns were being expressed over late-night noise, particularly in the form of late-night drinking (and the far greater number of drinking establishments then available) and fireworks (‘being released every night’).

All of which sounds terribly familiar. Some of the less intelligent members of our parish (supported by various of the councillors) are campaigning against extending pub opening hours. They’re talking of the increase in anti-social behaviour, the problems of vandalism and noise. All of which might be true, but are nothing new. Vandalism has been a constant worry since Ilkley became a resort town (and the working classes trooped over from Bradford every Bank Holiday); fountains and tea rooms alike have been forced to close. Not in the last decade, but a hundred years ago.

It’s the basic faustian pact made by the elders of the Parish as the hydropathy craze retreated. Bringing money into the town, letting it survive as a town, means an acceptance that on certain days of the year, there will be trouble, there will be vandalism and there will be noise. If you don’t like it, move out of the centre.

What irritates me is that number of citizens who can’t see further than the end of the warts on their noses. Shut down the visitors, and you shut down the town. The economy starts to collapse and within a decade it’s a commuter village for Leeds. That you don’t have to have even a basic understanding of local history or the fundamentals of economics to be a Parish Councillor isn’t surprising.

And, above, all, a wilfull lack of understanding of what made this town what it is, and what can help it survive.  It’s a good thing we have so many opticians in town–there’s obviously a great demand for rose-coloured lenses to appreaciate the past through. The darker the better.

Visitors to our fair town immediately assume that the central car park was once the site of an Ilkley market, and it’s the great joy of historical pedants like myself to point out that Ilkley (apart from the granting of a couple of charters in the mid-thirteenth century) has never hosted a market. Indeed, up till the 1840s Ilkley was a completely insignificant place compared to its market-town neighbour Otley.

However, it does appear that there was an intention to host a market on the very site where the car park now sits. Looking closely at the Plan for the second Middleton Land sale (1868), the area around Hawksworth Road now occupied by hundreds of commuting cars is clearly marked as ‘site of intended market’. Given the amount of time it usually takes for things to happen in this ‘burg, perhaps its still on the plans somewhere in Ilkley Town Hall.

at the Panorama Stones. Noticed some sort of tent over one of the stones, a small generator going. No idea what it’s all about, some sort of archaeological investigation Hopefully it’s about protecting them!

…and buy a local book by local people.

The Mid Wharfedale History Group (ie May Pickles and Moira Long) have finally released the third book in the series generated by their researches into Ilkley history. Moira Long’s Ilkley in 1847 follows on rather nicely from May Pickles’ Pre-Victorian Ilkley, published two years ago. It’s a good-ish sized pamphlet (a definite step up in production values from its predecessor), well illustrated, 48 pages long.

Why 1847? Because that was the year the tithe assessors produced the first detailed map of the whole of Ilkley township. The 1836 Tithe Commutation Act imposed a countrywide settlement and regularisation of the payment of tithes, converting tithes in kind (on milk, new born calves, whatever) into a fixed rent. This required detailed mapping of the ownership and use of fields across the whole country. Hence the 1847 map. It’s especially interesting in Ilkley, because it marks a period when the Heather Spaw was starting to turn into a venue for mass-tourism. The Ben Rhydding Hydro had opened in 1843, and many of the houses in the centre of town were providing lodging for an increasing number of visitors. So 1847 represented a turning point for the town. And this pamphlet takes the opportunity to look in detail at the use of land in Ilkey just before it became totally dedicated to tourism.

Now, we’ ve become used over the past five years to the ‘history is the new gardening’ theme, especially when it comes to TV History. What this means, of course, is the betrayal of social history and mass-Starkeyisation, a gossipy version of the ‘great man/woman’ theory that takes us back to Suetonius. There’s no room for social and economic forces, no room for the ordinary person, for local history, only for the big stories. It’s bitchy gossip as the history of the nation. And it’s about as far from this sort of work as it’s possible to get.

For this is classic historical research, like its predecessors. It’s bringing together material that would be hard for the public otherwise to find. It lacks narrative, or drive, but that’s not the point. It’s not always easy to read, but as a collection of source material it’s invaluable. In this, it’s descended from the school of Turner (and Collyer) rather than the elegant and witty Harry Speight, if we compare Victorian writers on the town. It’s more David Carpenter (whose book on the Middletons is almost unreadable, but represents a useful transcription of source material) than Tim Binding. Better writers will probably use this material (as Mike Dixon did with Turner/Collyer), but this is what they need to work from.

A few minor and interesting tidbits:

1) the footpath coming up from town along Parish Ghyll Road, then past St Margaret’s Woods, and on to the west of Wells House to the edge of the moor is the old droving path of cattle from the town to the moor (and back), which dates back to at least the 13th century. Next time you’re climbing that hill, a bit out of puff, think of the thousands of hooves that have done the job before you.

2) The old medieval fields of Ilkley can still be made out on either side of the town centre. The East field spanned from the current Leeds Road up to Bolling Road with what is now Little Lane as the access road to the variously owned strips. Above Bolling Road was the cowpasture. The Western field spanned from Skipton Road to roughly where Grove Road currently is, with the path of Kings Road as the access, up till around Victoria Avenue. The streets running off Kings Road to left and right represent some of the field boundaries.

3) The old stone wall at the southern end of Heber’s Ghyll is a medieval boundary between cultivated land and the moor (or ‘waste’). It might have been replaced many times, but if York can claim Roman walls on the basis of a Victorian re-build, I’m gonna claim early medieval for this one.

So, if interested, wander down to The Grove Bookshop and buy a copy. £6 and a lot easier to carry than young Potter.

Someone went through the railings next to the Panorama Stones on Thursday night.

Presumably they were trying to emulate the Scantlebury scenario.

Only without sitting on someone’s knee in a two-seater without a seatbelt on and wondering why you’re flying through the windscreen.

Obviously.

Hey, at least she gets the memorial of dead flowers around the tree. More than I’ll get.

A recent column of the ‘Times Past’ column in the Gusset had a news story from 100 years ago, when a particularly forward-thinking entrepeneur was suggesting setting up two artificial weirs in the Wharfe at Ilkley in order to provide the power to run the town. Was this the first attempt at eco-friendly power generation? Why wasn’t it taken up? What happened to the inventor?

Anyone who knows is requested to get in touch.

Off-election topics, but an interesting story came my way last night. Apparently our local Civic Society has been writing to the occupants of ‘houses of significance’ offering them a blue plaque. Not a proper English Heritage Blue Plaque (which are actually for places where famous people lived), but the more cheesy local variety which copies the idea and devalues it at the same time.

All well and good, but this offer is predicated on payment of £400 ‘sponsorship’. So, you can buy a sign that your house/office is worthy of recognition by the payment of 400 notes to your local Civic Society offices. Which strikes me as a good little scam. How many offers have been sent out? How much does a blue plaque actually cost to make? Where’s Helen Kidman going on holiday this year?

From the number of hits I’m getting from searches for ‘Ilkley Local History’ and the like, I’m assuming that IGS pupils have been set an Easter project. Just to let you know that nothing you read on here is true. Sorry. Move along.

(soryy, I know that’s probably the worst pun I’ve ever used).

I wanted to write some more about the Verbeia Altar. Especially having read the excellent mythopoetic article on Verbeia as the Goddess of the Wharfe by the wonderfully named Gyrus. He’s also done a booklet, which can be purchased here.

For those who can’t be bothered to read the whole thing, Gyrus develops a long and rather wonderful theory working with the notion that Verbeia was the name of a local goddess of the Wharfe. He uses this to describe his own ‘spiritual’ journey, admitting that the facts he has are limited, but drawing connections, pulling together ideas, and attempting to describe a living, breathing, conection between prehistorical artifacts and the ‘present’.

Those of us who spent a lot of our youth hanging out with thee Temple and various Chaos magicians will appreciate his skill at this not simply for nostalgic reasons!

But, anyway, the two artifacts Gyrus uses for his references to Verbeia are the Roman altar stone currently in the Parish Church and the famed Verbeia altar.

The former stone (See Gyrus’s article for an image), somewhat bizarrely labelled as Demeter in the Church, Gyrus suggests is an image of Verbeia herself, with the twin ‘snakes’ actually the two rivers flanking the fort. Now, while this is an interesting idea, there are lots of other possibilities. This seems terribly specific to be honest. It would mean a Goddess for a very narrow part of the river.

But, does the identification of this altar with Verbeia hold good? And who was Verbeia herself? Gyrus has lots of suggestions but, being a boring (a)rationalist, I wanted to get to the bottom of the evidence. Where do we know about Verbeia from?

Well, it turns out to be only one source. An awfully narrow base for such heavy ideas to be built upon (not to mention the idea that Ilkley would actually have been called Verbeia after ‘its’ Goddess).

That one source is the Verbeia altar. THis altar was found under the steps of a house (according to Collyer/TUrner, quoting William Camden, who visited the town in 1582), and was inscribed…

Verbiae
Sacrum
Clodius
Fronto
D
Praef. Coh
II Lingon

Usually translated as ‘To Sacred Verbeia. Clodius Fronto, Prefect of Cohort, Second Lingones.

A copy can be seen in the Manor House Museum

However, and this is worth stressing, the original no longer exists. It was believed to have been transferred to Low Hall and then to Myddelton Lodge, where it was set up, but the inscription wore away. According to Collyer/Turner, a copy used to stand near the Old Bridge–but I’m not sure whether this copy is the one in the Museum (I would rather doubt it).

Now, we know that this altar existed. We have corroborating evidence through Fairfax who remembered it standing in water. However, our evidence as to the precise wording relies purely on Camden.

Which is rather surprising given the number of theories that have been built upon it. Camden himself imagined this as a votive altar, Whitaker invented a story about Fronto being saved from drowning and paying for the altar in gratitude. From this we have the notion that Verbeia was the actual name of the Brigantian town and the Roman Fort, that this was the name of the Romano-British Goddess of the river.

Which is certainly a little odd as we know that a variety of names such as Guerf, GUer, Hwerver and Hwerf were actually used by Britons and Saxons, none of which sound like Verbeia in any way (actually, the Guerf and Guer are only surmises), whatever Speight might have said. Verbeia seems to be Roman, not British–the British had their OWN names for the river.

So, we have one piece of evidence. But could Camden have mis-transcribed? Well, he was notoriously reliable in his history, so it seems unlikely. Yet, as a good ripperologist, I can’t help thinking of all the energy expended building theories based on one of Jack’s letters which supposedly said, in condemning the efforts of the Polis, “all your lees”, quickly taken to refer to spiritualist Robert Lees. ONly last year, with new analysis by Evans and Skinner, the original letter didn’t say ‘Lees’ at all, but ”tecs’ as in detectives. A problem with building theories on secondary sources. THough, in this case, we only have secondary sources…

Hmm, okay, it’s less likely when we’re talking about a stone inscription, yet, we don;t know how faded it was. And, if it said something else, how much of this energy would have been wasted?

Well, and how much would have been wasted if you just read Camden’s transcription in a different way? For, according to Collyer/Turner as shown above, the altar didn’t mention ‘Verbeia’, but Verbiae. Now, Camden and everyone else must be a better reader of Latin than I am, but I can’t help noting that verb/verbi was the Latin for ‘word’ as in ‘The Word’. A common Latin gravestone inscription of the xian era was verbi dei minister, minister of the word of God.

OKay, this is idle speculation, but if Camden got this inscription wrong by even a letter, and the original was ‘verbae’ or indeed most variations on something to do with ‘verb’ or ‘verbi’ what we’re actually talking about is something to do with ‘word’.

The sacred Word (of) Claudius Fronto, etc…

Or ‘The Holy Word’. Perhaps a sensible thing to mention on an altar?

Okay, like I say, I’m not promoting this as a solution, but just suggesting that its a massive house of cards built on a second (or third or fourth) hand account of an inscription that no longer exists, and might, just might, have said something slightly different.

None of this is to take away from Gyrus’s (wonder if he had a daughter?) wonderful article, which spins off in so many directions, it would take a bigger brain than mine to keep track. It’s just, in its own way, idle speculation on the nature of sources–both riparine and literary.

Looking through things on the Panorama Stone(s), I found some excellent other essays, one of which in particular I’ll be returning to over the next few days. I also found this, and did one of those double-takes as in, ‘I can’t really be that stupid that I’d never made the connection’.

But, dear readers, as I’m sure you know by now, I can.

The simple connection which everyone else reading this has probably already made is that we appear to know that soldiers from the Lingones tribe made up part of the Roman garrison of the fort at *Ilkley. We also know that the Swastika motif of the stone over-looking the Wharfe valley is of the same design as the Camunian Rose, to be found in Northern Italy. Now, the Lingones were meant to be based in northern Italy, on the Adriatic Coast.

SO, the connection is obvious. Some lonely soldier, on point duty over-looking the valley in the early third century, carves a design similar to the ones he knows from home (or perhaps even carved at home). Simple, elegant, obvious.

Only (you just knew there’d be a ‘but’ dind’t you?) there are also of course similar designs elsewhere–not least in Scandanavia. The design is also extremely close to the design of the fylfot used as the standard of the Isle of Man–though Manx believe it derives from the Vikings. So, maybe it was carved in Ilkley to mark one of the boundaries of the danelaw?

Not that that affects the point–the Vikings could have found it and liked it during their conquests across Europe–the Roman connection for Ilkley works better than a Viking one.

But, again, there’s some dispute about the Lingones. For this elegant solution to work, it would require them coming from Valcamonica, in the Italian Alps near Brescia. And, while, some say they did, others (notably BR Hartley in his work on Roman Ilkley) point out that their capital was at Langres in Eastern France. Just to confuse, the evidence is that both are correct and that some of the tribe migrated to cisalpine Gaul, which would be just about right.

BUt we don;t know that the soldiers in Ilkley came from that migrated portion of the tribe some six hundred years later. They might have come from the older French branch. Or they ight just have been passing through Ilkley rather than staying here. Or…Hmm, perhaps it’s not so simple and elegant after all…

Another solution sent back to the breaker’s yard.

There’s another problem too. And that’s with the only piece of evidence we have for all this, the Verbeia Altar. But that’s a whole different post.

Hope everyone who can has been to see Not Set in Stone at the Manor House Museum. Basically consists of art inspired by the cup and ring marked rocks on the moor. Includes some very nice images of the moor, and, of course, some complete tat (the photo-collage artists charging £200+ for her/his ‘pieces’ was taking the piss).

It also raises once again the story that the important ladder symbol on the Panorama Stones was inscribed during Victorian times. The full story can be read here. What is suggested by Gavin Edwards is that a Victorian workman, Ambrose Collins, was responsible for adding the ladder pattern. The evidence is a lecture given by TC Gill describing Collins’ activities and a pair of drawings of the stones–one in 1863 that doesn’t show the pattern, and one in 1896 which does.

However, though both these pieces are interesting, neither is anything like conclusive. Gill’s lecture was given in 1913 (and reported in the Gusset of the day). He is referring to activities allegedly taking place in 1872-73, some forty years before. In 1913, Gill is Bailiff of Ilkley Moor, and is 63. While he would have been alive during the alleged events, it is as likely that his information came from his predecessors, relatives or simply a rumour doing the rounds. Unfortunately, such hearsay evidence is no evidence at all.

The drawings might be more important. We know that the drawing from J Rommilly Allen (1879) does show the ladders, and this had previously been thought to be the earliest image. But the alleged activity took place prior to this date, and Edwards seems to have a found a ‘new’ drawing.

However, this new drawing is only ‘thought’ to date from the 1860s, so we have no real provenance. Te absence of particular markings on a particular drawing is not definitive proof–we have no knowledge of the skills of the artist in question. We can use such evidence when we look at the legend of the ‘Bull stone’=if this supposedly massive stone is on none of the drawings of the Cow and Calf from the Victorian era, we can draw the conclusion it did not exist. But we can’t do the same with some small rock markings.

One would expect, if the markings had been put on later, that they would fade faster (or, at least, at a different rate) than the originals. Yet this has not been the case–they have faded at the same rate (given the shameful treatment of the site by IPC).

If, as is alleged, Collins was really marking stones all over the moor and hit upon this ladder design, why is it not repeated–or at least in anywhere such detail? It’s a good design, yet this is the only place it occurs. Much more likely that its a more ancient marking serving a particular purpose.

We are also expected to believe that no rumour of such Victorian fradulent markings reached the ears of Allen, who spent a considerable time on the moor to put together his 1879 article (only six years after the ‘markings’) or of Turner, writing ‘with’ Collyer during the early 1880s–who describes the ladder motif as occuring nowhere else but Ilkley. Surely something would have reached one of them, or been pointed out in the reviews of their various works?

Then, of course, there’s Dr Little. In all his work to relocate the stones wouldn’t someone have said ‘oh, but they’re not really prehistoric, old Ambrose did those’? It was pretty hard to keep secrets in a Victorian town. Yet, we hear nothing.

I’m aware this is not a full and satisfactory refutation, but the weight of evidence is definitely against this new theory.

Now, what’s really important is that someone does something to save the bally things!

Another pearl from t’Gazette this week…

“Officals rocked as moor is daubed with graffiti…

“Mindless vandals have scrawled graffiti over one of Yorkshire’s best loved beauty spots…ancient rocks have been defaced by louts.”

Yes, damn those evil Victorians and their chisels.

But what took the councilors so long to notice?

Just goes to show…old graffiti is art, new graffiti is loutish behaviour. Wonder if all those cave painters were strung up by their wossits?

I wanted to continue the post of a couple of days ago on the future of the town. Given the development of The Crescent into a strange mixture between a country house hotel and something designed by Ian Schrager, it strikes me that there’s an obvious gap in the market for any business-person willing to take the risk.

Ickley is a spa town. It’s also full of the modern version of spas, beauty salons. It’s also already a successful holiday resort. But the last proper spa closed down decades ago, and the symbol of the town’s wealth, Ben Rhydding Hydro (by then a ‘golf hotel’), was pulled down in the 50s.

What Ilkley needs is a new spa. Something like Champneys, or, more impressively, Seaham. Somewhere for the middle classes and the idle rich to escape to, somewhere to be pampered rather than subjected to the Robinson couch (which has always looked like the prototype for the Le Corbusier chaise-longue I’ve got in my front room).

But somewhere with steam rooms (and even compressed air chambers), and relaxation and all the mind-blowing guff of new age-ism. It’d make a bomb.

It just takes a Hamer Stansfield to organise the cash side. Only I’m not sure stuff merchants still exist.

Oh joy, the place is going to be full of Ozzies bent on destruction. Perhaps we could open a Walkabout Bar? Before they go out of business.

And all because Terry Deary, author of the Horrible Histories books, has declared that the boomerang originated in Ilkley.

Which is all because a) he’s got a book out. and (b) cos he’s been commissioned to say so by Boomerang Media, who distribute those postcards around pubs and clubs.

And of course the first time you look at the rock, you see a child’s plastic toy. Which is exactly what the Victorians who carved it probably thought as well. Nothing like a fylfot for bringing publicity to the town…

And, even if it is older than that it isn’t stone age, and certainly doesn’t pre-date the coming of the aborigines to Oz. It’s a Celtic design which dates to about 800-500BC; which is when the very similar Camunian Rose and Hovenas designs date to.

So, for all this bollocks that Deary’s talking, we, the fine upstanding citizens of this burgh, will have to pay by ‘welcoming’ loads of Aussies frothing at the mouth over the damage done to their reputation. Well, not their reputation as such, more the reputation of the aboriginal people who the White Australians complaining about this have spent the last two hundred years, shooting, getting addicted to alcohol and throwing in jail. Hmm…

(Oh, and you do think the papers could get in a picture of the actual thing rather than the cement replica next to it don’t you? Glad to see the hacks failing to do any research again).

Good thing he didn’t see the Badger Stone, god knows what he’d have thought we invented…

now, as I remember it, the start of the Ilkley Carnival was the traditional tradesmens cricket match between the black and the white hats. This has been running, on and of, for well over a century (with some years far more off than on), and from it and the annual Sheep Fair, descened our fairly modern carnival.

But where was it this year? In all the western gunfight, dogshow fun, where was the tradtional chance for the ladies of the parish to show how much better they are at creeket than their menfolk?

Or did I miss something?

I’m sure many of you know of the existence of this place, but anyway..

Ilkley, South Africa.

I used to have a theory that if you went to somewhere similarly named to somewhere else, you could travle between the two.

Thus Stamford Bridge would take you from Yorkshire to Chelski.

And Leeds, Utah was where the Saints came from, of course.

I’ll shut up now.

There’s long been a debate about the siting of the Roman Fort of Olicana. Most Ickley writers assume that Ilkley and Olicana are one and the same, but many alternatives have been suggested.

This adds more fuel to the flames. Olicana here is sited in Elslack, not even close to Ickley in Castleberg. It certainly downgrades the importance of the place.

But it relies on the suggestion that the origin of ‘Ilkley’ itself comes from a personal name, Yllica. Many writers make the more obvious linguistic connection with Olicana…Ollicley becoming Illeclei and so on. Take away the name connection and the evidence for Ilkley as the siting of Olicana is slight to say the least.

Which would rather blow a hole in all those local organisations using the name!