A Grimsby Fisherman's Wife

 

 

Dear Reader 

Traditionally hares were associated with witches possibly because of their ability to seemingly disappear, and also due to their mad March boxing antics which appeared to onlookers to be a witches dance.  Witches were thought to be able to transform into hares to flee from impending trouble.

The sort of behaviour you are most likely to see in the month of March includes madcap chases and furious boxing matches. However this is not mad behaviour but instead the courting behaviour of male hares.  The boxing was commonly thought to be between two males battling over a female but they are more likely to be an unresponsive female fighting off a male's advances.

The hare was a sacred and mystical animal to the Celts; a symbol of abundance, prosperity and good fortune.  The were believed to have connections to the Other world.  They were treated with great respect and never eaten.

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Chimp News:   The chimp has been very quiet lately, the one that lives in my head and protects me.  I have thought of a new box for him to live in, it is made of mustard coloured velvet with ruby ribbons to secure him in it when we go out. He will probably be more active when I start going out again,  in the spring weather we all look forward to.

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From Dorothy Wordsworth, 1802, March 13th, in Westmorland

'After dinner walked to Rydale for letters - it was terribly cold - and we had 2 or 3 brisk hail showers - the hail looked clean and pretty upon the dry clean road.  Little Peggy Simpson was standing at the door catching hail stones in her hand.'

  

 

  

A Grimsby Fisherman’s Wife

Mrs. Ethel Richardson

 

 

 

During the day she knitted

her life into rough wool sweaters.

Fear of north east gales,

- more forecast -

fear of no return,

and Friday night beatings,

were turned with a collar,

stitched with sober wool's.

Knit one, purl one.

 

Men known to her, sea-taken;

the grief of loss for

a babe or two; and

winter storms and

treacherous rocks that

albatrossed a fisherman’s life,

were knitted into sleeves,

into polo necks.

Knit one, purl one.

 

At night from her narrow bed,

she knitted dreams of exotic places

warm from the southern sun.

She danced on beaches, cockle-free

and knitted love

into her dream sweaters,

with wool's, brightly coloured;

corals, blues, pinks, and red.

By night she knitted pumpkins.

Knit one, pearl one.

 

 

 

 

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With very best wishes, Patricia