Cake Idioms

Several words have become part of the language in being used in phrases. Last time we looked at ‘flower’ and now look at ‘cake’.

To have one’s cake and eat it is first seen in the writings of John Heywood in 1562, where it appears as What man, I trow ye raue, wolde ye bothe eate your cake and haue your cake?

To take the cake is a phrase first seen in 1847.

Nothing was described as a ‘piece of cake’ until 1936.

Let them eat cake has been associated with Marie Antoinette since 1870. However, it appears in Rousseau's Confessions as early as 1740 and speaks of it being a phrase associated with French queens and princesses for some time.

Seed cake has been known as such since the 1570s.

Sweet cake, ie cake made with a significant amount sugar, is unknown before 1726.

Spice cake dates from the early 15th century.

Johnny cake, an American dish, has been around since 1775 and is of uncertain origin, although one explanation is a corruption of ‘Shawnee cake’.

Cupcakes have been around since 1828, and the phrase has been used as a reference to an attractive young woman since the 1930s.

Pancakes have been known as such since around 1400, although Shrove Tuesday is not referred to as Pancake Day until 1777.

Cakewalk – as in something easy – dates from 1863.

Cheesecake is from the middle of the 15th century, although it wouldn’t be the same thing as in the modern era.

Fruitcake is first recorded in 1838. As a term describing someone as ‘not sane’

Shortcake has been recorded since the 1590s.

Yellowcake was coined in 1950 – don’t look for a recipe, this oxide of uranium is most certainly not edible.

Simnel cake has been recorded since around the end of the 12th century.

Moon Idioms

Several words have become part of the language in being used in phrases. Last time we looked at ‘ice’ and now look at ‘moon’.

Man in the moon, as opposed to man on the moon, is derived from the idea the surface features can be seen to resemble a face on that side of the moon facing Earth. Mentioned since the 14th century, some reports say he carries a bundle of thorn twigs and is accompanied by a dog. The Japanese claim to see a ‘rice-cake-making rabbit’ – which is really stretching credibility.

The old moon in the new moon’s arms, seen in print for the first time in 1727, describes the first sliver of the new moon lit by the sun with the remainder visible by the faint illumination coming from reflected light from Earthshine.

To moon, as in wandering about as if in a daze, first appears in 1836.

Moonstruck, first seen around 1670, is another reference to someone apparently witless – here the link of lunacy to lunar.

To moon, as in to bare one’s buttocks, is first seen in 1968 – student slang likening the pale flesh of the untanned posterior to the silver light of the moon.

Blue moon is a something rarely occurring. In truth, a blue moon is a second full moon in a calendar month, an isn’t all that rare as it happens, on average, every 33 months – it is first spoken of in 1528. Other phrases which suggest a rare occurrence include: “at the Greek calends”; “in the reign of Queen Dick and Saint Geoffrey’s Day”; and “Nevermass” The song Blue Moon was written in 1934 and has been recorded multiple times in the last 90 years.

A moondial is the same as a sundial, it seen in 1680.

Moon face, probably not intended as a compliment, describes someone with a rather rounded face and is first recorded in 1854.

Moon dog is seen from the 1660s to describe a dog which howls at the moon- Neighbour’s dog howls each time it hears the ice cream van – does this make it a Cur-netto? A Whippy-et? A choc-cur spaniel? OK I’ll stop.

Moon shot is first recorded in 1958, a year before the first unmanned probe made a fly-by of the satellite.

Moon calf, a shapeless fleshy mass, first seen in the 1560s and sixty years later used as a derogatory term.

Half moon, which must have been seen since before humans were able to vocalize, is only recorded from the 1520s.

Honeymoon – so called because the Saxons would celebrate a union with a drink made brewed from honey.

Moonshine refers to illicitly distilled or smuggled liquor, first seen in 1785.

Nothing was described as moonlit until as recently as 1819.

Moonbeams have only been around since the 1580s.

The moonrace began in 1963.

Moonglow is a term coined in 1926.

Moonscape was first used in 1926.

Moonlight has been used since the 1670s.

Moonwalk was first used in 1966, despite Neil Armstrong not getting there for another three years. The dance move of the same name popularized by Michael Jackson was not coined until 1983.

Moonglade is a delicious expression and first used in 1860 to describe a track of moonlight on the water.

Moondoggle is a phrase coined in the 1960s by those who were skeptical of any financial benefits derived from space travel. Those same people who have Velcro fasteners on their trainers and Teflon coating on their pots and pans, I assume. Or perhaps they don’t have any uses for freeze drying, memory foam, scratch resistant spectacles, wireless headphones, air purifiers, solar cells, cochlear implants, shoe insoles, water filters, GPS, shoe insoles, foil blankets, power tools, camera phones, and how many more do you want? Incidentally, some idiot once told me his rationale for saying the moon landings didn’t happen was that a survey revealed one in six agreed with him.

Walking the Malvern Hills

A recent drive to one of my favourite parts of England coincided with a delightfully warm day, if a little muggy. Not that the hills are by any means the highest in the country, simply the countryside both east and west is predominantly flat and offers a perfect view of the quintessential patchwork farmland. .I was reminded of a passage from one of my earliest books, Worcestershire Place Names, and this story of one of the most respected individuals to live in the area. As we shall see this lady’s early life was hardly an easy time for her.

Lady Lyttleton was born Apphia Witts in 1743, the second daughter of one Broome Witts. At the age of 24 she became engaged to her cousin Richard Witts, he spending much of his time away working for the East India Company. In 1769 she embarked for India, where the couple would marry on her arrival and yet she arrived only to discover her husband-to-be had died during her voyage.

Grief-stricken and penniless he met Colonel James Peach, an army veteran and governor of Calcutta. A whirlwind romance saw the couple marry the following January. Whilst she had managed to marry this one they had hardly had time to get to know watch other for six months later he was also dead. He had contracted a fever and within ten days of falling ill had made her a widow.

Mrs Peach, as she now was, returned to England and went to live at Shenstone where she met the Honourable Thomas Lyttleton – a man who was ‘honourable’ only in title - a notorious rake of his day and clearly only interested in the considerable wealth she had inherited from Colonel Peach. Somehow he managed to convince her his reputation was an exaggeration, the impetuosity of youth and he was a reformed character. Hence he became her second husband in 1772. However with the ink barely dry on the marriage certificate he was already showing his true colours. With his mind clearly on the money he made his way back to the wedding carriage without his bride and, when he apologised for his oversight, managed to refer to the new Lady Lyttleton as ‘Mrs Peach’! A few short months later and she was alone again and now living with her father-in-law, George Lyttleton, at Hagley Hall. She came to Malvern around the end of the eighteenth century, eventually settling in the home she had had built which she named Peachfield Lodge in memory of her beloved first husband.

Lady Lyttleton was soon a leading personality around Malvern as it grew from a village to a town. She rarely left her home, where her role as a hostess was legendary, although she did venture out to Madresfield Court when in her eighties where she charmed the Duchess of Kent and a young Princess Victoria to such a degree they wrote and thanked her personally for their ‘unforgettable summer’.

Despite a number of heart-breaking setbacks in her early life, Lady Lyttleton overcame them to see her ninety-sixth year. Reports seem to indicate most of the town turned out to her funeral, shops were closed, the crowds spilled out into the churchyard and many others watched the funeral procession from windows, doorways and even rooftops to witness the end of an era in Malvern’s history.

Unlike Lady Lyttleton we parked at the British Camp car park where, on returning to the car, had time to cross to the small café on the Worcestershire/Herefordshire border for a well-deserved ice cream from a local dairy. Highly recommended.

As always I would welcome any suggestions for themes or subjects, or even specific words to examine the origins, meanings and etymologies. I’d be delighted to hear from you.

A Writer's Distractions

Writing takes up a great deal of my time. Indeed when I’m not writing it seems I’m invariably researching, taking photographs, or driving between one place and another. Now we have longer days, note I refrain from referring to the British weather as ‘summer’ (despite the current warm spell), I aim to take one day out every week to walk. Many of the walks are along canal tow paths, or circular routes around open country, and the occasional circuit which takes in an old railway line, including those featured in my book Beeching 50 Years On.

In recent months the tow paths of Britain have provided me with an all-weather surface. One of the plus points in walking canals is how often their routes closely follow the railway lines. The reason is obvious, both forms of transport follow a predominantly level route between two places, which will inevitably be similar. One journey I recently completed was along the Birmingham and Worcester Canal, a route which can be found here with additional information on the Droitwich Canal. I walked both, albeit in two stages, first from Birmingham to Alvechurch and second from Alvechurch to Worcester along with a loop around to Droitwich. Anyone thinking of following this route should certainly start in Birmingham as there is a drop of some 220 feet over the 30 locks of the Tardebigge Flight, the longest flight of locks anywhere in the land.

The two stages of the Worcester Canal are very different. Firstly the leg to Alvechurch, which is as level as it can possibly be for there is not a lock on this stretch. However one warning, there is a tunnel beneath Wast Hills. At almost two miles in length and without a tow path, the walker has no choice but to detour over the top. This route should be worked out beforehand as there is no marked way to follow.

Below Alvechurch, where the canal and railway station are separated by less than a hundred yards, there is a second tunnel to negotiate. This is much shorter and the detour well signposted, unlike the third tunnel on the outskirts of Droitwich which again should be planned beforehand. However the most obvious feature is the Tardebigge Flight. The amount of water needed to feed this drop is colossal. If you have any doubt as to the size of this feature simply pause to take a look at the size of Tardebigge Reservoir, built solely to feed the flight. It is impossible to envisage this engineering feat when walking it, the only really good view is from the air which ironically could not have been seen until around a hundred years after it was first in use.

For me walking is a way to rid the mind of clutter. It is when I’m thinking of nothing that I have the best ideas when it comes to my writing, very little of which has anything to do with walking, canals, or even railways. This is particularly true when walking along canals as it requires very little concentration, not even having to follow or work out a route on a map. Not that I particularly enjoy walking canals from a physical viewpoint as, for the most part, they are flat and thus using the same muscles for mile after mile. Something we notice when it comes time to turn off!

One day soon I intend to hire a canal boat and navigate the canals during the day, leaving the writing for the evening. Perhaps it will inspire different words to appear on the paper. Always assuming I can keep myself away from the many pubs, serving not only a hearty meal but a most tempting array of real ales.

As usual I would welcome any suggestions for themes or subjects, or even specific words to examine the origins, meanings and etymologies. I’d be delighted to hear from you.

Never Walk Alone?

It probably comes as no suprise to learn I have been walking many a mile of late. I've roamed canal tow paths, fields, footpaths, lanes, woods, lakes, former railway lines and even skirted working quarries. Most of the time I've followed recommended routes, circular walks which have taken me well over 500 miles in the last six months.

For much of the time I find myself completely alone and I am able to enjoy the peace and quiet, seeing only an occasional dog walker, cyclist or fisherman. However, being recommended routes, there are also times when the walk attracts groups. Walking in a group is rather different for either there is an increasing distance between first and last, in which case there is no actual 'group' but a 'string', or everyone keeps the pace of the slowest of their number.

Personally I cannot see the attraction of walking in a pack. Aside from having to wait for the slowest, they lose any chance of enjoying peace and quiet, the freedom, the opportunity to throw off daily routines and pressures, and the chance to think. If the pack is walking in the opposite direction you become aware of them from afar for their chattering can be heard from quite some distance. However if the pack is treading the same route, I endeavour to put as much distance between us as humanly possible, for I do not want any intrusion upon my solitude.

I concede there are those for whom solitude is sadly not safe. However if the idea is simply to wander and enjoy a sandwich, flask of tea, and a natter, wouldn't it be more sensible to walk around the local park or even the shopping centre?

Writing Memories on a Lichfield Walk

Soaring Heaven on Earth is a somewhat overly dramatic title for a walk on the northern edge of the city of Lichfield. This was not a walk I anticipated would bring any great satisfaction. I like a distant sound of traffic and little or no tarmac. However this proved a pleasant albeit brief distraction, particularly so when I found myself reunited with areas of my native county which I had visited previously when compiling four of my books: Staffordshire Place Names, Staffordshire Privies, South Staffordshire Street Names, and the forthcoming Paranormal Staffordshire.

I started the route at a different point on the walk, solely because parking was impossible on that day. Soon I was trying to recall the meaning of a number of street names as I started off at Cross Keys, itself taking the name of a former public house, itself named from the symbol representing St Peter. Passing through Lloyds Walk, named after the bank which owns the land, I turned into Dam Street, a reminder of where the water flow feeding the mill was controlled. Here is Dame Olivers, the school where Dr Samuel Johnson learned his first lessons.

Nether Pool is of lesser importance than Stowe Pool. Crossing Bird Street, known as Byrd Street in 1506 and named after a local family, we come to Beacon Park, a name transferred from Beacon Street which we shall encounter very soon.

Skirting the park we approached Townfields, the name explains itself. It was here that a former resident allowed me to photograph the building which had once served as the privy before modern plumbing was installed. The solid brick building certainly smelled better when I photographed it, for one wall and the roof were covered in honeysuckle and its heady sweet perfume.

Shaw Lane is an old name found in the landscape, one referring to 'the enclosure', leads to Beacon Street, which was known as Bacon Street until 1836 and tells us this was where meat was cured. Along here is Erasmus Darwin House where I heard of the unexplained events of cellar lights being turned on moments after being turned off for the night. Another man in period costume appeared to a member of staff and was thought to be playing a role for the museum until she realised he had vanished and that no costumed characters were on site that day.

A side road on the left is The Close, the road associated with the cathedral, and here another phenomenon seemed keen to allow aromas of cooking to permeate into the upstairs of one person's house when nobody was cooking. The buildings on either side seem to frame the magnificent Lichfield Cathedral with its three spires known as the Ladies of the Vale. Briefly touching Dam Street again we turn left along Reeve Lane, a reeve was a Saxon officer appointed by the lord of the manor to see to the running of the estate in his stead.

This path brings us to the single circuit of Stowe Pool, from stow which has several meanings and is best defined as simply 'place' as 'special place' makes it sound of greater significance than it actually was. The path leads off and up the ramp and back to my waiting car.

The walk brought back memories of facts and narratives I would never have remembered had I tried to recall them from a question or a reminder of a name.

Out and About

It has been too long since my last post, not through laziness but simply not been around long enough to get around to it. My travels have taken me to the Isle of Wight, to Wales, to the Peak District, and to Devon. In Wales I walked an old railway line which is now known as the Mawddach Trail and give a preview to a forthcoming project based upon the history of this stretch of the principality which was bathed in warm sunshine on the day I walked it.

"As discussed under the chapter on the Llangollen Railway, there is a ten mile stretch between Dolgellau and Barmouth which is now a bridleway and cycle route known as the Mawddach Trail or Llwybr Mawddach in Welsh. Together with the narrow gauge railway at Bala, the three connected routes show different aspects of former lines in the principality.

That this is one of the most popular routes for both walkers and cyclists alike. No wonder considering the splendour of the valley of the Afon Mawddach, where the river ages over a comparatively short route, opening out at the estuary and the bridge leading across to Barmouth.

A word of caution for those intending to follow this route note this is the Mawddach Trail and not the Mawddach Way. The former is almost perfectly level, a little short of ten miles, can be walked both ways in a day, and is even designated as wheelchair accessible. However the latter is a circular path around the estuary, is unsuitable for cycles, covers over thirty miles, climbs to a high point of over 1,100 feet above sea level, and experts advise to allow three days to cover this challenging route.

Back to our chosen route and we shall begin at Dolgellau in the Snowdonia National Park. From the former location of the station, only known by its Welsh name from 12th September 1960 and prior to that given the Anglicised version of Dolgelly, we shall follow the southern bank of the Afon Mawddach to the estuary. This is an ever-changing and peaceful journey, the river cutting through between the Rhinog Hills on one side and the Cadair Idris massif on the other.

The town of Dolgellau has plenty to offer with over two hundred listed buildings in its narrow streets. Dolgellau Station was opened on August 4th 1868, at a point where two former railway empires met head on: the huge Great Western Railway and the smaller Cambrian Railway Company who built the route we shall follow. By the time it closed there were two platforms with a passing loop, and an extensive goods yard with a turntable.

There is no sign of the station today, it disappeared when the A494 Dolgellau bypass was constructed in the 1970s. The line was constructed to bring the tourists into Barmouth from as far afield as the Birmingham and Manchester along a line which connected the West Midlands with the Welsh Coast, in the shadow of the Snowdonia National Park. However the businesses here soon took advantage of the artery to ship their own goods into the rich markets of England. Dolgellau's weavers soon benefitted from the larger market, while slate also made use of the line as we shall further along the route.

The first river is not the Mawddach, that we shall meet shortly, here the river is the Wnion (almost pronounced 'onion'), a brisk and pleasant stream which tumbles over the rocks and stones on its way to join its larger cousin. It is only half a mile along the footpath to the next landmark, the Wernddu footbridge taking us across the river to the trail proper, for it was along the north bank that the trains ran.

Shortly afterwards we pass a reed bed, a site of special scientific interest which can claim to be largest reed bed found anywhere in the principality. Look across to the northern shore and you are looking at the Welsh Yukon, here the gold mining industry was born in the 1860s and has been born and reborn time and again until as recently as 1998. Doubtless another vein will be discovered before long and, for a short period at least, gold mining will come back to the valley. The quality of the metal here is among the finest in the world, no royal wedding in memory has not used some Welsh gold in its the rings worn born bride and groom.

Another half a mile and we arrive at the next station which was Penmaenpool which, as with the previous station, had two platforms and a passing loop. However unlike Dolgellau part of the station is still here, indeed some buildings are still in use.

What were the platforms is now a car park. Those parked here may not be walking the trail, they could possibly be in the station's old signal box, still painted in Great Western Colours of cream and brown, which is now used as as information centre and observation post for the Royal Society for the Protection of Birds. Alongside the signal box is the Penmaenpool Wooden Toll Bridge, built in 1879 it replaced the earlier ferry and was largely funded by money from the gold mines.

The toll bridge is a Cadw-registered building, the official body for the preservation of historic sites in Wales. What were the station master's house, ticket office and waiting room are also still here and have been converted into an annexe for the George III Hotel. Here we see a perfectly preserved signal with a warning sign to those who would trespass on the track stating: 'DANGER. Survivors will be prosecuted'.

Leaving the station there is an incline leading past the buildings which served the station and sidings. The track bed runs through a cutting blasted out of the rock to provide a gradient suitable for a railway. Travelling on the we head straight west to meet with the river estuary. It is this stretch which is of particular interest to the bird watchers who can view the mudflats here to see the waders and simply by turning around can see an excellent variety of woodland birds.

As the River Mawddach dominates the route we should say a few words about a river which is probably little known outside Snowdonia. Indeed in 1976 the flooding river washed away much of the surviving ballast from the trackbed, effectively producing the present pathway at a stroke. Six significant tributaries - Afon Cwm Mynach, Afon Gamlan, Afon Eden, Afon Gain, Afon Wen, and the aforementiond Afon Wnion - and many smaller streams drain a sizable area. Each river has its own individuality, from providing important habitats for mosses and liverwort to gold mining and panning.

Although it may seem difficult to believe when walking through this idyllic scenery in the twenty-first century, the river has suffered greatly from pollution in the past. The preparation of animal skins, artillery ranges, munitions storage, and as a major ship building centre in the eighteenth century all contributed to the pollution. Yet today it is an important fishery for trout and salmon, despite the relatively high acidity levels washed in from the peat soils on the hills. The number and size of the tributaries do mean the river is liable to flood during and after the heaviest downpours. Indeed the track ballast was washed away by one flood, assisting the development of the track for walkers and cyclists.

Crossing one bridge across a tributary we come shortly to a straight section of track where the embankment has been built to cut through the estuary itself. Waters have access points all along to accomodate the rise and ebb of the tides. Still we see the old telegraph poles which still stand alongside railway lines the length and breadth of the land.

Returning to dry land once more this southern shore is, and always has been, largely agricultural. Farm buildings built of local stone blend in perfectly with the walls bordering the small fields where sheep graze. The earlier concrete tank traps remain, still defending the estuary from potential invasion seven decades after they were erected. These are no eyesore, perhaps owing to the trees which now camouflage the regular shapes, and there is a distinct impression of a row of teeth, ready to bite at the enemy should he try to invade via the estuary.

It is a little more than three miles from the previous station to Arthog, however there are many picnic stops on the way and the easy walking and delightful views mean this is hardly the most strenuous exercise. Arthog, like Dolgellau, has no surviving station buildings, although the location of the platforms can still be made out.

Arthog was a mining community, not for gold but slate. Here the rows of workers cottages are a pretty picture, something which cannot be said of the scar left by the workings of the slate themselves although these are invisible except from the air. Arthog station, now with its picnic area and car park, is across from a pathway marking the line where trams brought slate from the mine to the railway and thereafter to Barmouth and beyond.

Here the railway leaves the shoreline and heads straight for a good mile through an avenue of trees which is highly reminiscent of a railway line. Then we loop around to the right and ahead of us is the station which was Barmouth Junction.

There are two tramways which are worthy of mention, visible to those who keep their eyes open for a fairly obvious embankment. Solomon Andrews tried to found a holiday resort here in the 1890s. His plans were grand but he achieved little, the few houses he did build are now private homes and set away from the main walk. One tramway brought building materials in to this part of the estuary, the second is found just short of the bridge at the mouth and is quite evident on the right.

For some time the bridge across the mouth of the estuary to Barmouth has been glimpsed, however we must first pass through the junction station of Morfa Mawddach. This is also where the old station platforms are alongside a still active line between Pwllheli and Machynlleth. This line crosses the bridge alongside the footpath, it is a toll bridge and revenue helped to reopen it to all but the lightest rail traffic after the toredo marine worm burrowed into the wooden piles and almost brought it down. It is three-quarters of a mile in length, the longest bridge in Wales and one of the most instantly recognised features in the entire principality.

The bridge has a wooden section of 113 spans and an iron section of just eight spans. This latter part once slid aside to allow the passage of ships into and from the estuary, although not popular with the railway for it took thirty-seven minutes to open and close added to which was the time it took to get the ship through the opening. The modern version is a swing bridge, one which has not moved for over twenty years. Each of these columns were sunk 120 feet below sea level, through the silt and mud to stand on the bedrock below.

Barmouth, or to give its Welsh name Abermaw, appears to be clinging precariously to the edge of the land between the hills and the water. As stated at the beginning this is linked to the another chapter, that of the Llangollen Railway. The link is completed here at Barmouth in the form of the station's old signal box which was redundant following the introduction of radio signalling. It was taken and erected at Glynyfrdwy Station on the heritage Llangollen Railway."