by Taffy Thomas
The princess stood up and walked to the far end of her cell; there was a barred window. On the other side of the bars a tree was growing. It had but one branch; rocking gently on the branch of the tree was one green apple. The princess realised that the apple contained pips, so it was in fact a box of seeds, and didn’t have a lid! But it had to be a golden box. She knew that there are many different varieties of apples. She had heard of Granny Smiths and Bramleys. Deep in her memory, she recalled one named … Golden Delicious!
The princess spoke to the tree: ‘If you are a Golden Delicious tree, please bend down and help me.’ Magically, the tree leaned forward, so she could reach through the bars and pick the apple. She realised that she was holding her golden box without a lid, for wasn’t it a Golden Delicious box of pips?
Then she thought: deep inside a star is hid. What could that mean? She hoped the following day would take care of that and, exhausted, she curled up in the corner and drifted off to sleep, clutching the apple.
With the first light of morning, the ground started to tremble and shake.
The cell door was flung open and in leapt the fearsome ogre. ‘AAAAAAARGH!’ Sensing triumph, the ogre asked the princess if she’d managed to solve the riddle. With quiet confidence, she handed him the apple, pointing out that it was a Golden Delicious, containing pips, and didn’t have a lid.
Testily, the ogre said, ‘But … deep inside a star is hid!’ The princess fondly remembered times that she’d helped the cook make Cumbrian Rum Nicky (a kind of apple pie) by preparing the apples. With a mixture of memory and imagination, she pictured the centre of the apple. She asked the ogre to lend her his knife for a moment. Sensing defeat, the ogre handed her the knife. Carefully, the princess held the apple on its side on a stone, then she cut the apple in half across its widest point. Looking at the faces of the two halves, she noted delightedly that where the core had been cut in half and the seeds grew, they formed a star shape. She handed one of the halves to the ogre to show that she had solved his riddle. After looking at it, the ogre ate the apple, for he knew apples are very good for you; after all, doesn’t ‘an apple a day keep the doctor away’?
The princess, with a smile on her face, ate the other half, for she didn’t like to waste good food. Apart from that, she was quite hungry after her ordeal in the dungeon. The ogre told the princess that as she had been so clever in solving the riddle she could go free and return to Carlisle Castle, where – as we all know – the princess lived happily ever after.
LANGDALE VALLEY
This is a tale where the hero learns an important lesson. It is certainly a typical English folk tale that is ‘at home’ in Lakeland with its mountains, trees, steep paths and frozen puddles.
I have discovered that everyone loves this tale. Why wouldn’t they when the protagonist falls on his bottom? That’s funny – or so it would seem – especially if the person concerned has become ‘too big for his boots’.
It was the iron winter. Jack Turnip sat in the grandfather chair in his tiny cottage and shivered. The hearth was lifeless and the log basket empty. His heavy axe stood patiently in the corner of the room. Jack knew what he had to do. He needed logs for the fire. He also knew that logs warm you three times: firstly they warm you when you wield the axe; then they further warm you when you lug them home; only then do they truly warm you as you sit by the fire.
Donning his hat and scarf, and with his axe over his shoulder, Jack set off confidently up the lane. Feeling strong and thinking of how much work he might do in a day, Jack didn’t notice the frozen puddle on the path. He slipped over on the ice, landing flat on his backside! Collecting his scrambled senses he cursed the ice, regretting that it must be stronger than him – or so it would seem.
Then he pondered that although it was midwinter the sun would soon rise in the sky and gain the strength to melt the ice. Therefore the sun must be the strongest – or so it would seem.
Jack continued his train of thought. He pondered that even in spring, clouds could block out the sun, so the clouds must be the strongest – or so it would seem.
Then he reasoned that the March winds were so strong they could chase the clouds away. So the winds must be the strongest – or so it would seem.
Ahead of him Jack could see the mountain that overshadowed his tiny cottage. He pondered a little more that the wind couldn’t blow away the mountain, so the mountain must be the strongest – or so it would seem.
On top of the peak silhouetted against the skyline was a hardy tree. Then Jack thought that a tree could grow on a mountain, but a mountain couldn’t grow on a tree! Therefore the tree must be the strongest –or so it would seem.
Feeling the weight of the axe on his shoulder, Jack walked towards the tree and swung the axe, felling the fir giant in three mighty blows.
Jack stood triumphant with the axe above his head bragging to the heavens that he must be the strongest –or so it would seem.
Full of himself and more than a little hungry and thirsty, Jack headed full tilt down the path that led towards home. He was so much of a boaster and poser that he didn’t remember the frozen puddle on the path. His feet went from under him and he fell flat on his bottom.
All he could do was grab a couple of sticks, crawl home and sit by his meagre fire pondering his mishap and vowing never to be boastful again.
CARTMEL
Long ago a group of French monks had a puzzle to solve to find a place to build a beautiful church. Hundreds of years later, two visiting children each had to eat a lollipop to get two sticks to prove the story true.
Perhaps you could do the same, and follow in their footsteps if you are near the village of Cartmel.
One lovely Lakeland day, twins – a boy and a girl – were taken to Cartmel for the day to hear the man dressed in yellow with the straw hat – the storyteller – tell a story in the square. The children were excited, for apart from the joy of a new story, this outing would involve nice things to eat. They knew the sticky toffee pudding shop stands in the square along with a number of places where ice cream could be bought; and it was a hot summer’s day.
Parking their car next to the great church that is Cartmel Priory, the family wandered into the square and joined the crowd gathered around the man in yellow. Raising his straw hat in welcome, the white-bearded storyteller leaned on his walking stick with the ‘badger head’ handle and began his tale.
Six hundred years ago an abbot called Bernard brought a group of monks with him from France to Lakeland to build a great church. Camping on the top of a hill, they started to dig the foundations for a large stone building. Every evening after their work they prayed together.
One night, praying for help with their mission, they were amazed to hear a voice from the heavens. The voice told them that they were building in the wrong place. Continuing, the voice told them they needed to find a piece of land between two rivers that flowed in opposite directions. The monks realised this would be impossible as all rivers flow to the sea. Bernard told his men they had to prove themselves worthy of this seemingly impossible task, as the voice they had heard was the voice of God.
They set out and searched the whole of Westmorland, the whole of Cumberland and the whole of Lancashire North of the Sands. Each day proved more impossible than the previous one. Pushed on by Abbot Bernard, the monks didn’t give up, even when they found themselves back on the hill where their journey had started.
Thinking of giving up and returning to France, they again kneeled together in prayer. To their astonishment, they heard the sound of rushing water from the valley beneath them. Recognising this as a sign, they rushed down the hill to the village square, each grabbing a stick and tossing it into the river, expecting to see the sticks flow south towards the bay. To their amazement the sticks floated north, towards the mountains. Looking upwards the monks saw a great star, the North Star. This proved what they had seen. Rushing across the village to the site of what we now know as Pepper Bridge, the monks once again thr
ew sticks into the river. This time they did flow south towards the sea.
Bernard and the monks cheered excitedly; their prayers had been answered. They set to work immediately to build the beautiful Cartmel Priory in that valley where they believed two rivers flowed in opposite directions. And there it stands to this day.
The storyteller raised his straw hat towards the Priory as the audience clapped. He told the listeners they could take little sticks to the bridges and see if the story could be true. The twins said that they would really like to try this, suggesting the best way might be to use lollipop sticks! Smiling, the grown-ups agreed. Before long, with lollipops eaten, one stick was dropped at the bridge in the square and the other on the far side of the Priory at Pepper Bridge. And, guess what? They both floated in opposite directions – as you will discover if you visit.
If you like this magical story, you might like to find out more about oxbow lakes with the help of your parents, carers or teachers, especially if they like geography.
GILCRUX
When you visit the Lake District you’ll find it is not without reason that some people call it the ‘Taste District’. A number of local dishes and ingredients have their own stories, literally ‘stories good enough to eat!’
The tale that follows is about our much-loved Cumberland sausage. This is a dish and a story that delighted a group of young people in the Western Lakes, especially when I used my imagination to include a strange local competition, ‘Gurning’ or funny face-pulling, in the story.
I expect, after you’ve enjoyed the story, you could have a sausage for tea and try pulling a funny face. Give it a go.
Jack and Mary lived in a tiny cottage near Gilcrux in north-west Cumbria, just south of the Solway. Jack was a woodcutter and lived happily with his wife Mary. That part of the county is quite remote and you can but imagine the excitement that builds in the community as one of their annual celebrations, Egremont Crab Fair, the Biggest Liar in the World Competition or – more recently – Solfest, approaches.
Jack and Mary were excitedly waiting to visit Egremont for the Crab Fair, where of course the highlight is the ‘Gurning’ competition, in which brave locals put their head through a horse collar and distort their face in the most extreme fashion possible – yes, an ugly face-pulling competition!
Jack had always fancied bringing home the trophy to his wife, but he was far too handsome. No amount of stretching, straining – even removing false teeth – would distort his features sufficiently to win.
The day before the fair, Jack went about his business. He went off into the forest to collect wood, leaving Mary to prepare a nice Tatie Pot for his return. Just 100 yards into the wood, Jack heard a desperate wailing coming from a bush. Being a kind man, Jack parted the branches of the bush to discover the nature of the problem: deep in the foliage, Jack spotted a fairy in a bright green suit with a pointy hat and silver wings, with her ankle firmly trapped in a cleft of a twig.
Carefully Jack lifted the fairy out of the bush and stood her on a nearby tree stump. The fairy thanked Jack for saving her and told him that as a reward, he and his wife could have three wishes. At this news Jack leapt in the air with joy and decided he must race straight home to tell Mary about their luck.
On the walk home, Jack started to feel pangs of hunger. Now, that part of Cumbria is famous for its spicy pork sausage: Cumberland sausage. It was Jack’s favourite meal.
As he walked up the path towards his front door, Jack wished for Cumberland sausage… in the kitchen Mary was just bending to put the Tatie Pot in the oven when to her amazement, there was a flash of lightning and a Cumberland sausage appeared and started sizzling in the frying pan on top of the cooker.
Jack excitedly walked through the door, shouting to Mary that he had some wonderful news to tell her of their new-found luck.
Mary pointed to the sausage, telling him that something strange was afoot. Jack told Mary of how he had rescued the fairy and been given three wishes. They could wish for anything they wanted.
Immediately Mary realised what had happened and asked Jack if he had wished for a sausage.
Jack had to admit his foolishness, at which point Mary pointed out that there was a perfectly good Tatie Pot in the oven and that he’d wasted a wish. In fact, she pointed out he had been so stupid that she wished the sausage was stuck to the end of his nose.
Well, just imagine: there was another flash of lightning and the sausage flew around the room before coming to rest and sticking firmly on the end of Jack’s nose.
Jack squealed because the sausage was quite hot. He tried to pull the sausage away but it was stuck firm. He begged Mary to help him and … they pulled and they tugged without any luck for the sausage was stuck!
Mary offered to cut the sausage off with a large pair of scissors, but Jack feared this would mean she would cut off part of his nose, and refused the offer.
Jack pointed out that he looked more like an elephant than a woodcutter.
As if things weren’t bad enough, the time had come for them to depart for Egremont, for the Crab Fair.
Well, it is said that behind every dark cloud is a silver lining, and Jack and Mary arrived at the fair just in time for the famous Gurning competition.
Mary entered Jack and – you’ve guessed it – with a Cumberland sausage stuck to the end of his nose, the face he pulled was so awesome that he easily won.
And so it was that Jack and Mary proudly took the trophy home to Gilcrux, with Jack vowing to head to Wasdale the following autumn to try and win the Biggest Liar in the World competition!
Although the sausage had been useful, in the comfort of their cottage Jack knew he could not live with it stuck to the end of his nose.
Mary reminded him they still had one wish left.
Together they held hands and wished that the sausage would come unstuck. There was a flash of lightning and the sausage flew around the room and landed back in the frying pan. Mary set to and made them both a sausage and egg pie, Jack’s favourite. As for the Tatie Pot, like all good hotpots, that tasted even better the following day.
THE STORYTELLER’S GARDEN, GRASMERE
The following tale begins in the Storyteller’s Garden in Grasmere, where many people say that magical things can happen. After visiting the garden, you can take the path through the churchyard opposite to the bridge over the River Rothay. As you look downstream, it is easy to picture where the fly-fisherman might have stood, and where the tramp could have sat down to remove his boots.
Long before the Storyteller’s Garden was created, the patch of land at Church Stile in Grasmere was a jungle where the grass grew long and plants grew wild.
One day, a tramp man, a gentleman of the road who had walked for many days without stopping for a meal, a sleep or even a wash, was walking out of Grasmere and was passing by this patch of unkempt land. His feet were killing him, so when he spotted a particularly large tuft of grass his first thought was that it would be a nice place to take the weight off his feet, and maybe even to have forty winks.
He sat down and, because he hadn’t stopped walking for many hours, he kicked off his boots and was soon fast asleep.
The tramp had been so eager to sit down that he hadn’t noticed he was in the middle of a circle of toadstools: a fairy ring. And because he hadn’t stopped for a wash he hadn’t shaved either, so he had a stubbly chin.
After a few moments he was awakened by somebody pulling on one of his whiskers as though it were a tug-of-war rope.
‘OUCH!’ he cried, and he opened his eyes to discover that it was a tiny man in a yellow and green suit. ‘Get out,’ yelped the tramp.
‘Get out yourself!’ replied the fairy. ‘You’re in my place.’
‘What do you mean, I’m in your place?’ asked the tramp.
‘This is the fairy ring and my king, the King of the Fairies, it’s his birthday today. We’re going to have a party right here. You’re sitting where the band is going, and where your old boots are,
that’s where the food and drink are going. In short, you’re in the way. Clear off!’
The tramp looked down at his worn old boots and saw that the tops had come away from the bottoms. A thought popped into his head and he said, ‘If you would only give me some new boots, then I’ll clear off.’
In a twink, the little man was gone.
After what may have been a second, or may have been a minute, the fairy returned, clutching a pair of bright yellow boots in his fingers. He popped them down by the tramp and said, ‘There are your new boots. Now clear off.’
The tramp picked the boots up and examined them. He saw that they were buttercup yellow and every stitch was perfect, but they were only half the size of one of the tramp’s thumbs.
Angrily, the tramp complained. ‘Those boots are so small, they wouldn’t even fit on my big toe.’
To which the little man replied, ‘Try them. Those boots are fairy boots. They’re bigger on the inside than they are on the outside. Try them.’
The tramp slipped one of the boots over his right big toe and the other over his left and, sure enough, his feet slipped right inside. The boots were a perfect fit.
Excited, he turned to the fairy. ‘These boots are fantastic!’ he cried. ‘Where can I buy boots like these?’
The little man replied, ‘Money wouldn’t buy you boots like that. However, my king, the King of the Fairies, tells me you can have those boots if you make me a promise.’
The tramp nodded eagerly, so the fairy continued. ‘You must promise me that you will never ever tell a soul where they came from. And if you do, the boots will disappear back to where they came from at the speed of light.’