A Peek at the Folklore of Mylor and District and more
A Peek at the Folklore of Mylor and District A Peek at the Folklore of Mylor and District Alex Langstone
On the edge of the ancient woodland of Devichoys, where the parishes of Mylor and Ponsanooth meet, can be found a haunted lane known locally as ‘Irish Woman’s Hill’. It was here that sometime during the first decade of the 21st century, a shimmering ghostly manifestation was seen by a resident making her way home. The lady concerned had just turned onto the old coach road which runs alongside Goonreeve Farm, and ultimately terminates at the town of Penryn. These days the road is little more than an isolated narrow country lane. It was a late summers afternoon, and the driver was shocked to witness an old lady standing in the road as she turned into the lane. She was wearing a long, black skirt and had a black shawl over her head and shoulders. She appeared to be wandering slowly along the lane, stopping every few seconds to catch her breath. The local lady followed cautiously in her car, as she trudged along the old lane and around the bend ahead. But when the driver rounded the corner, the lane was empty and there was no sign of the hunched figure of the old lady. After searching the hedgerows on either side, thinking that she may have stopped for a rest, the perplexed driver carried on her journey, pondering no doubt, about where the black-clad figure had gone. Several years later, the same lady met a man who farmed the land on the corner of said lane, She took the opportunity to ask him about the strange incident. Without hesitation the farmer stated that it was the ghost of an old Irish woman who haunts this lane. It is told that she was on a stagecoach heading to Penryn when she suddenly died. It was frequent practise in those days to bury dead passengers on the roadside where they perished. The field here is known as 'the Irish woman's field' because she is buried there. No-one knew her name, nor where she had come from. Though stories of her ghostly form have often been reported, both during daylight and after dark.[1]
According to some of the older villagers, the lane where she met her demise, which runs from the junction near Devichoys Woods and going towards Penryn, was often referred to as ‘Irish Woman’s Hill’.[2]  The Mayor of Mylor, is an old custom, which traditionally links Mylor parish with Penryn. Traditionally held each Autumn, when the hazel-nuts are ripe, the festival of ‘nutting-day’ is kept. A crowd from the town go into the country to gather nuts. Meanwhile townsfolk would proceed to Mylor, and whilst there, elect one of their number as the sham mayor. Seated in a chair shaded with green boughs, and borne on the shoulders of four strong men, the Mock Mayor and his compatriots process from Mylor to the ancient borough of Penryn. The procession would consist of torch bearers, bodyguards wielding weapons, and two ‘sergeants’ clad in official gowns and raised hats, each wielding a monstrous cabbage on his shoulder in lieu of a mace. The rear was brought up by the throng of the ‘nutters’. As they approached the outskirts of Penryn, the town band would join them and march them joyously into Penryn, where they were received by the massed population of the town. At the town hall speeches were given, and the celebrations went on late into the night, with street fires, music and dancing.[3] Another amazing tale from the village is The Black Bull of Mylor. I came across this incredible tale many years ago, and it involves the sighting of a ghostly, fire breathing black bull, who is reported to haunt Church Lane between the church wall and Well Ackett: One night the two men were out on their rounds, and were intending to make their way towards Trefusis Point, so as to pass by the Big Zoon, when after they had passed the church stile they were suddenly brought to a stop―Away in the distance, coming towards them, they could hear a fearful roaring noise; then they could hear the gravel flying, and as the sound came nearer they could make out the form of a big black bull, tearing towards them with fire coming from his nostrils, and roaring something terrible! [4] The tale seems to originate from the 1830s, when smuggling was still rife around the creeks of the Fal and was probably made up (or kept alive) to keep folk at bay during the illicit operations along the creek after dark.[5]
First published in my regular folklore column in Meyn Mamvro Vol. 2 No. 7, Spring/Summer 2023.
[3] Robert Hunt. Popular Romances of the West of England: Sham Mayors – The Mayor of Mylor [4] Old Cornwall, volume 1, issue 7, published in April 1928, and written by W. D. Watson. [5] For a full investigation of this folklore see LienGwerin 7, Feb. 2023, pp 48 - 52     • View comments • Track comments •
Lien Gwerin 7Lien Gwerin: A Journal of Cornish Folklore, issue number 7 is now available on general release. You can order direct from us on the link below. https://alexlangstone.bigcartel.com/product/lien-gwerin-7 Alternatively, the issue is now available worldwide. Why not order from your local bookshop? Or online via Amazon or our print-on-demand partner Lulu.com  Contents The Folklore of the Hal an Tow by Andy Norfolk The Old Man of Cury by Robert Hunt Cornish River Lore by Alex Langstone Folk Dance Collectors in Cornwall by Merv Davey The Morgawr: Elusive in Sea and Folklore by Ronald M. James Passing through the Devil’s Eye by Karen F. Pierce Book Review: Fern Seed & Fairy Rings Hazel Trees in Cornish Folklore by Rupert White Black Prince Flower Boat by Kathy Wallis Obituary: Dr Alan M. Kent First and Last Folklore by Katie Giles Plus original art by Paul Atlas-Saunders   • View comments • Track comments •
Original Art Work for sale by Paul Atlas-Saunders We now have some of Paul's originals for sale that he produced for my two recent books The Liminal Shore and From Granite to Sea. Check link below for details on how to purchase www.troybooks.co.uk/catalogue/paul-atlas-sanders-artwork .jpg)   • View comments • Track comments •
Devils, Witches and Shucks of the Essex Saltmarsh Devils, Witches and Shucks of the Essex Saltmarsh Alex Langstone The Blackwater estuary is a vast expanse of tidal power, and is a shoreline littered with the ghosts of my ancestors. Here is a strand where the clandestine places of land and sea merge; punctuated with mysterious, secretive, and isolated islands. Osea, Mersea, Ramsey and Northey; Cobmarsh, Pewet and the Ray all sit on the water here, some now more accessible than others; due to land drainage and tidal flux. Here the highest tides bring overspill and nervous excitement that the old alluvial marshes are once more, creeping landwards, reclaiming their mysterious past. The red ochre sails of traditional barges once plied their trade upon this waterway, which links land, river, and sea to generations of cultural traditions and interesting lore. This magnificent estuary where the river Blackwater meets the North Sea, is recognised as a Ramsar Wetland site of international importance. It was here, on this eastern coast that in pre-Roman times the Celtic tribe of the Trinovantes held sway. Collaborators of Boudica and the Iceni, there isn’t much now to show they were here, but the ghosts of this lost British tribe survive deep within the land and on the tides.  Thames barges at Hythe Quay, Maldon. These low lying and desolate salt marshes of the Essex shore are eerily beautiful in their bleakness. The marshy lip of the coastline between Brightlingsea and Maldon is particularly stunning and most definitely enchanted. This estuarial district of mid-Essex was once the hub of eighteenth-century smugglers, as barges could be sailed right to the head of the many creeks of the district, and Salcott Creek was at the centre of the illicit operations, where cargoes were unloaded and thrown into a marshy pool. The pool was actually a pond, which had been built with a false wooden bottom, which could be drained to retrieve the goods once it was safe to do so. Many of the old houses facing Salcott creek were lookouts for the illicit traders and hurricane lamps were put into top windows to warn that it was not safe to land. Just to the west of Salcott lays the moated site of Devil’s Wood. This site is linked to the folklore of the Devil and Barn Hall. This traditional old Essex folk horror narrative is a classic example of diabolical devil lore, with layers of interesting themes to explore. The basic folk legend goes something like this - One day, a local squire decided to build Barn Hall in what was known as Devil’s Wood. Soon after the builders had begun to dig the foundations on the small island in the centre of the wood, strange occurrences had begun. It was hoped that by building the new hall at this spot would forever thwart the Devil’s sabbaticals from gathering in their traditional meeting place. Each morning, when the builders returned, they found the trenches they had dug had been filled in. This went on for a few days, so in desperation, the squire ordered that a guard be put on duty during the night, to find out what was happening. On the first night the guard heard someone approaching. "Who goes there!" he shouted. "I, Satan and my hounds," was the reply. The guard replied, "This place is protected by God and me." The Devil and his hell hounds turned and fled. On the second night the Devil once more appeared. Again, the guardsman inquired as to who was there, and again Old Nick revealed himself and his pack of demon dogs. Only this time the guard made the mistake of declaring that only he was protecting the site, and not God. On hearing this, the Devil picked up a piece of building timber and declared “Wherever this timber falls, you shall build Barn Hall". The Dark Lord threw the timber high into night sky, and it twisted and turned over and over until it landed a mile or so to the west. The demon hounds then surrounded the guardsman, preventing any escape. The Devil turned upon him, and with the hounds baying, ripped out his heart. The Devil then vowed that he would have the man’s soul whether he was buried inside the church or out. It was eventually decided that he should be buried within the church wall. There are those who say, that if you look closely, you can make out the Evil One's claw marks on the walls of All Saints parish church, where he tried in vain to search out his soul. In the north wall of the church at Tolleshunt Knights you can still see an effigy of a knight holding his heart. The Devil’s hounds, incidentally, are said to haunt the nearby marshes on stormy nights, and the folklore of the Tolleshunt Knights Devil may indicate that we have recovered some lost wild hunt lore of the Essex coast, where the Devil and his demon hounds chase across the sky and into the grainy swamps of Salcott Creek. Here, under the light of the full moon and glistening stars, they continue to haunt the marshes and collect the lost souls of long dead bargees and fishermen of the past. The beam, which the Devil threw up the hill was incorporated into the cellar of Barn Hall, which can apparently still be seen today. However, it would be an unwise to attempt to view it, as the Devil placed a curse on the beam, so that anyone who dared to enter the cellar would receive his deadly spell. Barn Hall was built at the beginning of the sixteenth century, so the tale can probably be traced back to this time, if not earlier.  The haunted Devil's Wood at Salcott, which hides an ancient moat and island, the secretive home of the Devil and his ghostly hounds. The fields surrounding Devil’s Wood are believed to be haunted by strange beings. An account from the 1980s gives us a clue as to how the area can cause panic through its eerie reputation and unusual atmosphere. The harvest had been completed, and the farmer was keen to get the field ploughed before the weather broke. He asked his son to plough the field into the evening, and the young farmer ended up using the powerful floodlights on the tractor to get the job finished. As the darkness of night fell across the land, the tractor driver began to glimpse movement along the edge of the field. At first, he thought that he was seeing a fox on her twilight hunt, but as he continued to plough his furrows, he began to feel very uneasy. He was convinced that he was being watched and he kept seeing and hearing movement close to his tractor. A large dark shape then cut across his path, and in a panic, he stalled the tractor. As he tried to restart the engine, he became aware that something unseen and malevolent was trying to open the tractor door; he turned the key again, now frantic to escape. The engine spluttered into life, and he headed off at full speed across the ploughed field. The tractor was bouncing around dangerously, but the young farmer wanted to get away from the terrifying dark field as soon as he could. He eventually reached the road and he headed home. The field was sold soon after this incident, and folk are still wary of driving past it at night. The plough and sail village of Tollesbury lies on the northern bank of the Blackwater estuary and is almost completely surrounded by salt marsh, reed beds, creeks, fleets and saltings. This area is a truly wild part of the Essex shore, with little development, and is home to a huge variety of wildlife. Although once extinct, this part of the coast is now, once again, the domain of Marsh Harriers and Short-Eared Owls. At the end of the nineteenth century there were close on one hundred fishing smacks operating from Tollesbury Fleet, and oyster fishing was the main industry. The village has always been reliant on both the sea and the lands fringing the salt marsh for agriculture. The old wind-blasted woods on the edge of the saltmarsh around Tollesbury are said to be ‘devil ridden’ and have been rumoured to have attracted the ghosts of many local witches and others practising the old folkways and magical arts. Related to this is the local ghost-lore of a phantom druid, who manifests once a month under the light of the full moon. During this time, he appears in all his ceremonial regalia in the woods on the edge of the mire.  These ancient saltings on the north shore of the Blackwater estuary are also home to the ghostly Black Shuck or Phantom Seadog. One tale tells us that William Fell, marshman and gamekeeper, was travelling home one dark night from Peldon. His horse and trap was trundling along the Wigborough Road towards Tolleshunt D’Arcy when a huge black dog as big as a calf, and with eyes like bike lamps mysteriously appeared and followed the trap right up to Guisnes Court. Another tale tells us that on a frosty and moonlit January night at the stroke of midnight, a local girl was cycling from Salcott to Tollesbury to fetch the midwife. There was one spot along the road that she always hated, by the lane to Gorwell Hall, known locally as Jordan’s Green. This isolated spot had always been feared and disliked, as it is where a man was once buried with a stake through his heart, giving rise to all sorts of gossip, including that of a vampire. It was at this spooky spot, where the cyclist saw a large black dog, its head level with her handlebars, and whose body was as at least as big as her bicycle. The dog was reported to have a black coat which looked unkempt, and a huge tongue which looked like velvet. It kept pace with the girl until she reached Seabrooks Lane when it disappeared. The girl eventually reached the midwife, and on her way back, the dog again appeared at the junction with Gorwell Hall Lane, where it appeared so large that she could barely cycle around it. Gorwell Hall Lane is also the spot where a mysterious ghostly white lady can sometimes be seen, and nearby during the 1960s a cyclist reported being attacked by a large black dog at dusk, whilst travelling down the coast road, towards Goldhanger. He apparently leapt off his bike to scare the animal, and it promptly vanished before his eyes. Belief in witches and magic was still rife up to the beginning of the first world war, and the following accounts are from the early part of the twentieth century. A local counter witchcraft charm was practised in and around Tollesbury, called branding the witch. This involved cutting a piece of your own toenail and placing it with a lock of hair from the person who had cursed you. These were both thrown into a fire. Immediately afterwards, you should place a poker into the fire, and allow it to get red hot. It was then slowly withdrawn from the flames, and as you did so, this would brand the witch and break the spell. The cursing culprit could then be identified, as he or she would show burn marks on their bodies.  Tollesbury waterside, where the old sea witches once plied their trade Another counter witchcraft charm was used when someone had been ‘overlooked’ by a witch. You should light the copper and get the water almost to the boil. Set the ‘overlooked’ or ‘cursed’ person down by the water, and place one of their legs into it. You should get the person to keep the leg in as long as they could bear it. Then put them to bed. The following day the person was healed. However, the witch would be suffering with a scalded leg, so was identified. Tollesbury folk had yet another way of identifying a witch. It was believed that if you saw a mouse and a cat eating from the same dish, the owner was a witch. Mice were favoured creatures of the Essex marsh wizards and witches, who kept them as familiars to help make magic. One Tollesbury sea witch was suspected of bewitching her son’s oyster smack. Each time he dredged for oysters, he would overshoot the spot. Unfortunately, there are no records of any names in this piece of sea-witch-lore. There was also a gypsy witch who travelled around the village, and at least two others who lived in the village, who had reputations as cunning folk, and were consulted about things strange and uncanny and children were warned not to look at the cottage where one of them lived. The parish church of St Mary the Virgin sits upon the highest point in the village and parts of the building date from the eleventh century. The ancient churchyard is haunted by the ghost of a white rabbit which is reported to appear and run around the graves on some of the darkest nights of the year. To the north-east, towards Brightlingsea, the Devil haunts the marshy promontory between Pyfleet Channel and South Geedon Creek. There was once an old weather-boarded shepherd’s cottage called ‘Found Out’ on the edge of the marsh. It sat by an old pond at the end of the old cart track from Langenhoe Hall Farm. The old cottage arrived at its unusual name through a strange old folk tale. When the Lord God made the world, this was the last place He found out – and the owd Davvil was a-living here then. This little shard of marshy land to the north of Mersea Island is the Devil’s country, and another story concerning the ‘Owd Davvil’ has him joining the twelve strong mowing gang as the thirteenth stranger called Hoppin’ Tom. This was originally recounted by marshman, adder-catcher, bull-tamer and poacher, Ted Allen, and was told something like this - Once, long ago, a gang of twelve men was sent to mow Langenhoe Marsh, and very soon after they began work, a mysterious stranger surreptitiously joined them. The men were soon feeling irritated, as he mowed faster than any of them, and as a result, he earned much more money. Then one chap spied that he had cloven hooves and knew at once that he must be the Devil. Subsequently, the mowing gang formed a plan, and they had thrown down a load of iron bars in the long grass overnight. The following morning, ’the Owd Davvil’ mowed through the iron with ease, it was like they were made of butter. But later when he came to draw his pay, the farmer spied his hooves, and exclaimed “You’re the Davvil called Hoppin’ Tom, and I won’t pay you” and the Devil let out ‘a shrik like an owl and flew off in a sheet o’ flame’. As Tom flew off, he threw his drinking bowl into the field, and that’s why we still call the small pond the ‘Davvil’s Drink Bowl’ to this day. We never saw Hoppin Tom again after that; well not us, anyway. Hidden within this old folk tale, we may have a folkloric echo that leads us into the secretive world of traditional marsh-magic, where twelve members met with the leader of their clan, to make the witchy number of thirteen. Perhaps it was on the very cusp of Langenhoe Marsh, that the leader of this mysterious group was once known as “The Owd Davvil Hoppin’ Tom”. The above excerpts are taken from my recent book - The Liminal Shore: Witchcraft, Mystery & Folklore of the Essex Coast, published by Troy Books. For more tales of witchcraft, mystery and magic of the Essex coast, please click the book cover, which will take you to my publishers website, where you can purchase a copy of The Liminal Shore  "Thoroughly steeped in a sense of place..all in all it's a cracking book, and a must be for would-be marsh wizards, psych geographers and folklorists alike" The Enquiring Eye “This book will be read in the decades to come, still delivering stabs of wonder and delight” David Southwell. @HooklandGuide "Highly recommended - a very good and informative read" Nigel G Pearson Photographs copyright Alex Langstone. Illustrations copyright Paul Atlas-Saunders.   • View comments • Track comments •
Modern Cornish Piskey Encounters Modern Cornish Piskey Encounters
Alex Langstone There are numerous stories of the little folk within the
scope of Cornish folklore, where Piskies, Knockers and Spiggans appear to the
unwary, often leading them astray, both from place and through time. The 19th century folklore collections of Bottrell, Hunt and Courtney are full of Piskey lore,
and during the following century, the likes of Enys Tregarthen and Cecil
Williamson continued to collect the lore of the Pobel Vean from across
Cornwall. These tales, from the beginning of the 20th century to the
present, seem to illustrate that sightings of these fascinating elemental
creatures are still with us, as they continue to map themes from popular
culture through modern times, from laundry duties in a stream at dawn, to peculiar
characters waving from a ‘flying saucer’ over the skies of St Merryn. Furthermore,
during his tenure in Boscastle’s witchcraft museum, Cecil Williamson was
regularly asked why there were so many stories of piskies on the Cornish moors.
He would answer - because there are so many piskies on the moors.
[1] A curious tale of a Piskey sighting
from 1936 at Marsland was collected and recorded by author Marjorie Johnson. [2] “A few years ago, on the Cornish-Devonian
border, I was surprised to see on the cliff above me the figure of a tiny man,
dressed in black, strutting round in a rather vain-looking way. So incredulous
was I of the existence of the 'pisky' people that I said to myself, 'In a
minute I shall see what he really is - a bird, or a shadow'. But no, he went on
being a tiny man.” The same author recorded other
relatively modern Piskey stories from Cornwall, including one curious entry
which mentions Padstow’s own 20th century folktale collector, Enys
Tregarthen. In a letter to Marjorie Johnson, a Mrs Agnes Taylor states that the
last time she visited Nellie Sloggett (Enys Tregarthen), she witnessed a Piskey
sitting on her shoulder. [3] In conclusion, and from the same
source, we have reports of sea fairies at Looe, where in 1943 a Mrs Clara Reed
described the creatures as wearing a
skirt of seashells and a bodice of seaweed, and she had a row of shells round
her neck and a large shell on her head. The sea sprite was reported to have
told Mrs Reed that her husband would recover, despite being taken seriously ill
whilst serving in the Army. [4] In St Merryn, sometime during 1910,
two girls saw a red object resembling a boat or ship among the clouds; the
object contained a large number of little dwarf-like creatures that were
chattering, laughing, and pointing down at the witnesses.
[5]
Was this interesting and somewhat absurd account, somebody’s first ever
sighting of an airship or, maybe even UFO? There is little else written about
this, but around thirty years later further north at Kilkhampton, three girls
saw a little man riding around their garden in a tiny red car. It was a dark night,
and the girls were awoken from their slumber by a noise. One girl heard a
buzzing noise, whilst the other two heard bells and music. When they looked out
of the window, they all saw a little man in a tiny red car driving around in
circles, he wore a red droopy pointed hat and had a white beard, and he looked
very happy.
[6]
One of the girls, Marina Fry later had correspondence with Fortean writer and
investigator, Janet Bord, and stated that she was four years old when she had
this experience. [7] During 1964, a Goblin (Piskey?) was witnessed
among the reeds of a stream at Treago Mill, near Crantock. Whilst holidaying in
the area, Wiccan Priestess Lois Bourne had a chance meeting with fellow witch
Raymond Howard whilst out walking on the local coast path. Mrs Bourne and her
husband were subsequently invited to Treago Mill for dinner, and consequently
found themselves accompanying Raymond Howard on a pre-dawn ‘goblin’ hunt to a
nearby stream, and at daybreak, they witnessed a ‘goblin’ washing his socks in
the cool clear waters of the brook. Lois Bourne described her supernatural experience
thus: “Sitting on a stone calmly washing his socks was an elfin creature with
red hat, green coat and trews, one yellow sock on and one in his tiny hands in
the process of being washed. [8]
 Treago Mill Finally, to bring us into the 21st century, within the collection of the Museum of Witchcraft & Magic there is
a recent account of a Piskey (or possibly more correctly a Spriggan)
[9].
In 2016 an elemental ‘fairy’ type of creature was glimpsed at Boscawen-Un stone
circle. The elemental was seen close to the centre of the circle, and a
painting produced by the witness gives it a very romantic human appearance, remarkably
reminiscent of the Pre-Raphaelite ideal of how a fairy might have looked.
[10]
 Fairy as seen at Boscawen Un by Ivan Clark The museum also has another interesting piece of 1960s art depicting piskies dressed in red, playing cards under a large toadstool, using a human skull as their table. Illustrated below. [11]
First published in Meyn Mamvro Autumn 2022 Vol 2 No 6 [1] From the Pisky Painting write up, exhibit 1642. Museum of Witchcraft & Magic [2] Seeing Fairies: From the lost archives of the Fairy Investigation Society, by Marjorie T. Johnson, pp 236, 237 [3] Ibid, pp 73, 74 [4] Ibid, pp125, 126 [5] The Folklore of Cornwall by Tony Deane and Tony Shaw, p 65 [6] Ibid, p 65 [7] Modern Mysteries of Britain by Janet and Colin Bord, p 157 [8] Witch Amongst Us by Lois Bourne, p 34 (1979) and Dancing with Witches by Lois Bourne p29 (1998) [9] Popular Romances by Robert Hunt: The Elfin Creed of Cornwall [10] Exhibit 3796, Museum of Witchcraft & Magic, Boscastle [11] Exhibit 1642, Museum of Witchcraft & Magic Boscastle (illustrated below)
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