Helictites in Shatter Cave, Mendip. Photo and graphic by Linda Wilson.
Judging by the feedback we receive and the number of people who open these newsletters, we seem to have succeeded in generating some great engagement throughout the society and, unusually for most club newsletters, your hard-working editors haven't had to write most of it themselves! But any newsletter is only as good as the content it generates, so please, please keep the articles coming! We're open to articles of all types, from trip reports present and past, to 'memories' for our ongoing 100 Memories project, photos, songs, poems, art, fiction, you name it, we'll grab it with open arms! And as you'll see in this issue, we have two articles from members past and present recalling how they started with UBSS. Some more articles like this would be fabulous. Look, we're making puppy dog eyes at you all! And as we enter a new lockdown, there's no excuse not to put pen to paper, and if we can't go caving, we'll at least be able to read about it instead!
The ever-popular Tuesday evening quiz and pub nights are still going strong thanks to the amazing Megan Malpas and her minions. Keep an eye on Facebook for details but if you're not on there and would like to come along, let us know and we'll get the links for the Zoom calls sent over to you. Congratulations to Sioned and Si for producing our final quiz of the year in 2020, a fiendishly difficult music quiz, which produced a lengthy debate on the answers! Always the sign of a good quiz!
Back issues of the newsletter can be found here. We'd really love to create a content list for all our online newsletters, and some help with this would be much appreciated, so if you're at a loose end with some time to spare, please let us know!
Stay safe in difficult times, and if any member - new or old - is struggling with anything and wants a listening ear, remember that UBSS is a supportive community that is always here to help. So drop us a line if you'd ever like to chat!
We would like to wish all of you a healthy and safe New Year! Thanks for your support!
Santa brought this gorgeous piece of hand drawn artwork in a lovely frame for Linda (as well as an excellent suffragette diary, as the art was slightly delayed!). This will have pride of place on a caving shelf! Thank you, UBSS Santa!!
The big event for December was the UBSS Secret Santa, kindly organised by Santa's Little Helper, Haydon Saunders, who proved remarkably adept at organising a piss up in a brewery! And as Haydon eloquently put it on the subject of the type of gifts: "This year, I'm suggesting nice gifts on the grounds that covid has already fucked this year enough."
Thanks to Ned, we all discovered some extra features on Zoom, hence the addition of virtual reindeer antlers, amongst other things. Hours of fun for the whole family!
Nine of the ten participants got together for the last Pub Zoom of the year for the opening of the presents and a fiendishly hard music quiz organised by Sioned and Si.
Santa was delighted to note that no one was on the naughty step this year, and the various UBSS santas responded magnificently with a wide variety of gifts including: a llama travel mug (no prizes for guessing who that went to!), various packets of curry spices, a book of folksongs and some stickers, a bike lamp, a guidebook to Copenhagen, some handcream, a copy of Somerset Underground Vol 1, a caving notebook, a bottle of homemade limoncello and a mug, beer, and various choccies and sweets!
A llama mug for Committee Llama.
It was a great way to round off the year, and everyone was very pleased with their presents from Santa, particularly Haydon, who received a kilo of monosodium glutamate! We think it's fair to say that Hut cooking will probably never be quite the same again.
So a big thank you to UBSS Santa and all his little helpers!
For the first cave of Brismas, my second said to me: Let’s pay a visit to ? Answers on a postcard to the Prezz, or alternatively, click this link!
With caving opportunities rather limited at the moment, the Prezz decided to liven things up for us all with some socially distant caving and a competition, so without further ado, Elaine explains all ...
For the second cave of Brismas, my second said to me: To ?? Answers on a postcard to the Prezz, or alternatively, click this link!
RULES
• The picture will be posted on Facebook and sent via email at roughly the same time. To add a little frisson, there will not be a set time that that will happen (although hopefully I remember to do it every day!)
• The first answer I get back, going on time received, is the one that gets the point. If the email/FB post are out by a minute or so I’ll adjust by that many minutes if necessary.
• Answers accepted by email, photo comment, PM, text/whatsapp, any other verifiable method.
• If more than one person gets the answer at the same time you can all have a point, it’s Christmas.
• You can’t just take a scattergun approach and list every cave! Pick one and try that; I will PM you if it’s wrong.
• If nobody has guessed correctly by the end of each day, the cave will remain open for guesses on further days. I may provide clues if I can think of any.
• In the event of a tie at the end I’ll think of a tiebreaker.
• I haven’t decided what the prize will be yet but it will be something nice and not a sack of coal (although tbh if you’re planning a night in the Hut any time soon that would actually be quite nice).
• The President’s decision is final and no correspondence will be entered into (unless I fancy a chat).
Note: the link to use to email your answer is, in all cases, BELOW the photo.
For the third cave of Brismas, my second said to me: ??? Answers on a postcard to the Prezz, or alternatively, click this link!
And even if you've missed doing this when the photos came out, you can still send your guesses to Elaine with your reminiscences of the cave you think it is, and there might even be more prizes for any articles we get. To qualify for a literary prize, we're looking for at least 100 words!
For the fourth cave of Brismas, my second said to me: ?? Answers on a postcard to the Prezz, or alternatively, click this link!
For the fifth cave of Brismas, my second said to me: Answers on a postcard to the Prezz, or alternatively, click this link!
For the seventh cave of Brismas, my second said to me: Answers on a postcard to the Prezz, or alternatively, click this link!
For the eighth cave of Brismas, my second said to me: Answers on a postcard to the Prezz, or alternatively, click this link!
For the ninth cave of Brismas, my second said to me: Answers on a postcard to the Prezz, or alternatively, click this link!
For the tenth cave of Brismas, my second said to me: Answers on a postcard to the Prezz, or alternatively, click this link!
For the eleventh cave of Brismas, my second said to me: Answers on a postcard to the Prezz, or alternatively, click this link!
Two crows sat on a tree, for their relevance, read on.... Image via Good Free Photos.
The New Year's Eve Dinner is believed to be the society's oldest continuous tradition. It is said that during World War Two, Bertie Crook dined alone at the Hut to ensure the tradition remained unbroken. The gathering is associated with a trio of rituals: the roll call of absent members known as 'Hish, Hash, Hosh' or 'Sneezing', singing The Old Crows followed by a rendition of Auld Lang Syne that invariably turns into a linked hands version of that of school armbreaker 'British Bulldog'. We have no idea why we do all this, we just do (and think we probably always have, in one form or another), which makes it folklore in action, as Linda Wilson explains...
Well, let's start with the good news ... Plague Year hasn't resulted in a break in our oldest traditions and, as a result, the sun duly rose on New Year's Day thanks to the stalwart efforts of four members who nobly socially distanced outside the hut for three hours in sub-zero temperatures. This merry band duly performed the rituals then ate roast goose baps, accompanied by stuffing, roast potatoes and pigs in blankets, followed by mince pies. Clive and Wanda kindly provided the goose, stuffing and pigs in blankets. There was even a veggie alternative. The new year was serenaded in with a selection of caving songs, old and new. The bad news? Nope, there isn't any. The tradition remains unbroken and those present didn't get frostbite (although it was possibly a close run thing!). It was also really heartening to see how important this tradition is to members old and new, and numerous people enquired (with some trepidation) whether covid would be claiming another victim. The answer is no!
In view of this, this newsletter seems like a good place to get these traditions down in print, with what we know of their history which, frankly, isn't very much, but it's possible this article might throw up some insights we've missed.
When I first joined the club in 1979, we relied heavily on Oliver Lloyd to guide us in the esoteric rituals and, as a result, after Oliver's death in 1985, a line of The Old Crows went missing for several years and was replaced by the very non-traditional 'de dum de dum de dum de dum'. In the hope of retrieving the original line, I put a letter in the February 1989 issue of the newsletter (Vol. 5 No. 1). This promptly worked its magic and I received a letter from Nigel Wallace, reuniting us with the missing line ('Around his neck there hangs a chain'), and confirming the rest of the song was indeed as we understood it to be. The origin of 'hish, hash, hosh', however, remained obscure, and still does. So, to recap, in the order the rituals are performed:
HISH, HASH, HOSH or 'SNEEZING'
To perform this part of the rituals, everyone gathers in a circle outside the hut then one person (traditionally the treasurer), divides the group into three (usually unequal and random parts) with one person left over, and acts as the 'caller'. Each group is given a word to shout out when the roll call of absent members has been recited. This is done by reference to the four points of the compass and usually involves much geographical debate and disagreements over location and faff always ensues, with names being added randomly by members of the circle. When each compass point roll call is completed, each group shouts in unison their designated word (HISH, HASH or HOSH, as appropriate) and the lone remaining person yells 'BACON!' Are you following this? No? Well, don't blame me! I never said any of it made sense, did I?
This year, the group decided to add an extra 'sneeze' to the members who had died during the past year: Isabel Buckingham and James Russell. We have done this in the past, and the intention is to keep this as part of the ceremony in future, when needed. And as for the rest of you, worry not, on the occasion of the Plague Year, A LIST was compiled and used. How organised is that?!
This is followed by an appropriately out of tune and off-key rendition of The Old Crows. The tune is an utter dirge and seems to bear no resemblance to any of the folk versions I've tracked down, of which more below. The problem is that this particular choir only practises once a year, after the consumption of copious amounts of booze. If we ever get our act together, we'll get Elaine to record a tuneful version for posterity, as she can sing and most of the rest of us can't!
THE OLD CROWS
There were two crows sat on a tree,
They were as black as black could be,
Said one old crow unto his mate,
“What shall we have this day to eat?”
“In yonder field a horse lies slain,
Around his neck there hangs a chain,
We’ll sit upon his old back bone,
And pick his eyes out, one by one.”
AULD LANG SYNE
The version we usually mutilate goes something like this:
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
and never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
and auld lang syne?
For auld lang syne, my dear,
for auld lang syne,
we'll take a cup of kindness yet,
for the sake of auld lang syne.
As no one can ever remember any more verses (and there's invariably disagreement about the words that are sung!), we then usually repeat the chorus whilst charging at each other, arms still linked, until someone falls over or the circle breaks up in drunken disarray, or any dogs present start fighting. This year, the socially distanced group stayed two metres apart and didn't stage that particular part of the closing ceremony of the rituals. This is followed by cries of happy new year and more booze.
SO, WHAT'S IT ALL ABOUT?
To be blunt, buggered if I know! But this is the short version of my research ...
There is a reference to 'sneezing' in a letter from EK Tratman to Trevor Shaw dated 3 January 1963, referring to the 1962/3 new year party in which Trat says: 'We sneezed to you but as it was very cold with east wind and snow blowing we did the ceremony inside the hut.' Wimps, say I! It's been outside every year I've been there. even if we have had to haul Kirsten Hopkins out of the warmth on several occasions.
Talking about The Old Crows, in Nigel Wallace's letter to me dated 4 February 1989 he said: 'I do not know when and why the song became associated with the UBSS. The same applies to the hish, hash, hosh routine. The alcoholic state of most members by the time this was performed meant that memories tend to be vague; few of us would have been in any fit state to ask questions or remember answers. In general we relied heavily on Oliver and Trat to provide a lead in the proceedings.' Not much has changed in that respect! In a further letter to me (27 May 1989), Nigel recalls that the song was referred to as the Two Crows.
Later that year, I heard from Kay Dixon on the subject of hish, hash, hosh. His letter (dated 21 November 1989) said:
'I don't know the present ritual nor whether the following is relevant. In my day (1945 - 8) we used to sing:-
We are three jolly consumptives
Hish, Hash, Hosh
(cough, clear throat, spit)
We never work, we never will
We never pay the doctor's bill
We are three jolly consumptives
Hish, Hash, Hosh.
More of a medico's song than a caving one and a favourite of Bertie Crooks if I remember rightly. Arthur ApSimon may be able to throw more light if you see him.
PS I don't remember ever having heard more than this one verse.'
I did ask Arthur, and he couldn't shed any further light on this, but in view of Bertie's involvement with the society a medical connection certainly can't be ruled out, although how this came to be connected with absent friends is currently anyone's guess.
Another letter received at the time (6 February 1989) came from Martin Joyce, who although he had never made it to a New Year's dinner, once performed a version of The Old Crows at a sherpa party in the Himalayas.
Martin said: 'In between bouts of mountain sickness and clinging onto tentpoles to stop things blowing away there was a call for Party Pieces. What on earth was I to do? - I hadn't brought my piano, let alone the music. Anyway quite unrehearsed and without any apparent effort of memory appeared a 20-year old recollection of the UBSS official "grace". It seemed particularly appropriate at the time in view of the disgusting thing that we'd been eating for weeks and I'm pleased to report that it was very well received. For the record, as far as I can recall it came out like thus:
There were three crows sat on a fence.
They were as black as black could be,
Said one old crow unto his mate
I know where we can dine in state
In yonder field there lies a knight
Slain yesterday in unfair fight
We three shall sit upon his chest
And peck his eyes out one by one
Amen'
Martin added that he didn't know whether he'd made this up altogether and whether he was pursuing a completely different bunch of old crows to me. I was interested, then and now, by Martin's recollection of this as being an official UBSS 'grace'. It certainly sounds like the sort of thing cavers might say before a meal, and might possibly explain why a version of the song came to be associated with the new year's eve meal, although now the song is performed after the meal rather than before, although in the case of the Plague Year Rituals, it did precede the meal. My gut feeling is that this is the same bunch of old crows.
In typical UBSS fashion, the rituals usually get explained to initiates with the words: 'It's traditional, innit?' Which in UBSS parlance means 'once is happenstance, twice is tradition'.
SOME NOTES ON THE OLD CROWS
There are numerous versions of this song. The two best known are usually entitled The Three Ravens (no 26 in the Child collection of folk songs) and the later Scottish ballad Twa Corbies. Both differ vastly in form and content. The earliest printed collection of the former comes from Ravenscroft's 'Melismata' of 1611 but it is believed to be older than that and it has been argued (by Ritson) that the Corpus Christie Carol (the earliest extant text of which goes back to the first part of the 16th century) is a pious adaptation of the Three Ravens which, if correct , would push the ballad back into the 15th century. The earliest printed version of the Twa Corbies form is from Walter Scott's Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border of 1803. In this guise, the song appears to have crossed the Atlantic and then appears frequently in North America, particularly in Virginia, where it takes on a more burlesque form, losing its human cast and replacing the dead knight with the dead body of a horse. The UBSS tradition follows this later form.
At its most basic, each version contains a variant of crows or ravens glorying in their upcoming meal of man or horse. The grim humour clearly appeals to cavers (many of whom in UBSS have been medics, but dark humour is by no means simply their preserve) and in Martin Joyce's recollections of a UBSS grace before meals might well lie our answer to the question of why the song is sung at our New Year's Eve celebrations.
(* contents may not be entirely as described.)
Longwood. Photo copyright Peter Glanvill and used with his kind permission.
All good things come at a price! When former Hon Sec Ian Wheeler won I read To the End, one of your opportunistic editors promptly jumped on him for a contribution to our 100 Memories project and in this article he reminiscences about his early days in the club. As responsible editors we must stress that a) Do not try any of this at home, children, or underground and b) Our safety practices have considerably improved in the intervening years, honest, guv!
Imagine a world where the internet barely stirs. A world of no mobile phones, a world where cassette tape is king and there are only four TV channels. Think back to an England that had only recently thrown off Thatcher, an England that was in love with the Super Nintendo and an England that still thought that Robin Hood Prince of Thieves was a great cinematic experience.
This is a tale of fire, mud, fear, nakedness, trespass and booze, crammed to the gunnels with hot gypsies*. It is also entirely true, except for the bits that aren’t. As ever, it is a tale told by an idiot…
I made my university choices way back in the mists of the end of 1991, when the universe was less than half its present size. Bristol was always my first choice, even more so when I discovered it had an active caving club and a Doctor Who Society. The Venn diagram covering English undergraduates, Doctor Who fans and cavers, I would be disappointed to learn, had an overlap of precisely 1, but no matter.
In the end, I took a year out and ended up making the long journey south in 1993. I’d done a fair bit of caving in the Peak District as a Venture Scout and was looking forwards to venturing further into the netherworld. A freshers’ weekend in the Mendips mixed action, excitement and endless faff with copious amounts of beer in The Plume of Feathers. I very quickly realised I had found my university niche and went on to spend every weekend of my first term underground. I am amazed to find it is 25 years this year since I graduated, but many of my sharpest memories of my time at Bristol are those linked in some way to the UBSS. Here, if you will permit a middle-aged man to drift into his anecdotage, are just a few.
On a very early trip, I was taken down Longwood while it was in flood. I remember looking askance at the huge volume of water pouring down the vertical entrance rift, only to be told by the trip leader (stand up Topher Martin) that it would be fine.
By the time we had spent a happy afternoon wading about and exploring passages that were clearly too tight to go anywhere, the waterfall had turned into a torrent and exiting seemed to take forever, possibly because it was the first trip for one or two unfortunate novices and they had decided that panic was the only way to get through all this and escape from the dangerous idiots they now found themselves trapped with. By the time I got back to fresh air, I was ticking off the various stages of hypothermia in my head and longing for dry clothes and a warm bath. The virgin cavers decided this would be their last trip as well as their first and were never seen again. For almost certainly perverse reasons, I was hooked.
It took two separate hot baths to stop shivering uncontrollably.
There was another, later and slightly less wet trip to Longwood. We were under the earth for hours and hours and when we emerged it was dark and we were thirsty. The easiest way to slake our thirst at the time seemed to be the vast quantities of farm gate cider that someone had purchased and laid out at the hut. It didn’t really taste of much other than fire, with a vague hint of apples. Several hours later, I was rehydrated, but the world had adopted an irregular orbit. Projectile vomiting was followed by merciful unconsciousness. Later, someone dropped a bottle of the cider in the tackle store and it immediately stripped the paint from the floor. Mindful of this fact, we thought it best to pour the excess down a sink.
I have never, ever been so ill.
This isn't Paul Drewery's bum, but you get the drift ... the photo has been cropped to preserve modesty, although there is normally very little of that in evidence!
Nakedness seems to figure in far too many of my UBSS memories. I was surprised to find over the course of a bonfire weekend that there was some sort of competitive tradition of stamping across an enormous bonfire wearing only a pair of hiking boots and a strained smile. That first year, I was not quite drunk enough to think that this was a good idea and the smell of Paul Drewery’s singed pubic hair put me off attempting the firewalk forever after, and is an olfactory memory that has stayed with me to this day. One dark and dismal year, possibly also on a bonfire weekend, I was tricked into scrambling around Goatchurch Cavern sans clothes, though we were all made to keep our boots on by a safety conscious member of the club who voiced the opinion that to do otherwise would be very silly indeed and possibly even downright dangerous. I had no idea that the skin on my hips and shins was so thin until this experience, nor how effective a skinful of ale was as a makeshift anaesthetic.
I was in pain for days after.
Somebody had a great idea. There was rumoured to be an underground city near Bath. A huge Ministry of Defence owned site that had been developed to take refuge in come the nuclear war. When the nuclear war didn’t come, it was mothballed and sealed off, but there was a way in if you were sneaky. Hopping over fences, we rigged a ventilation shaft and abseiled in. It was brilliant! There were endless corridors and passages, locked rooms filled with treasure, old cars, cranes, conveyor belts and all manner of forbidden delights. With closing time on the horizon, we headed back to the shaft, where our ropes had been untied and chucked down by someone even more sneaky than we thought we were. This was not so good, but we had noticed that there was light coming through the sealed entrance and reckoned we could bash our way through the doors with the hammers we were carrying, for a purpose now lost to me. As we neared the entrance, we were saved – the doors were open and we would be able to sneak out into the dark night and away.
This plan was scuppered by the security guards and local police who greeted us warmly upon our exit. They took down our particulars and told us we were very lucky not to be arrested for trespass. Never quite knowing when to shut up, I took exception to this and, pulling myself up to my full height (5 foot 9 in heels), told the copper that he’d find that difficult as trespass was not a criminal offence and almost impossible to prove if we hadn’t caused damage, which we hadn’t. We hid the hammers at around this point. Probably. I was treated to one of those special looks that they must teach at police college, a look that seemed to suggest I might be spending a night in the cells to teach me a lesson in a minute, and that I might well fall down some stairs on the way to said cell. Fortunately, as a distant church clock chimed eleven, her majesty’s constabulary thought about the forms he would have to fill in, the moment passed and we were sent on our way.
I am inordinately proud of this incident and recently used it as the focus of a school assembly. Many of my colleagues looked on in horror, even more so than usual.
I could go on… Being taught how to rig in the back of a car on the way to Rhino Rift and then shaking with fear while putting it all into practice for the first time. Trying to convince the slightly deranged woman who ran the caravan site in Ingleton that the UBSS was not the same as the BUSS, and we were not the ones who were on her banned list for breaking a caravan. Andy Farrant dying the water in Singing River Mine bright green. Using basic A Level physics to work out how long it would take me to hit the ground if the rope broke while I was hanging at the top of the main pitch in Car Pot, the answer being comfortingly brief. Sprinting across the moors after an epic trip down Lancaster Hole, desperate to reach the phone box before Cave Rescue were called out after our through trip turned out to be not so through-like afterall and we had to retrace our steps through a crazy boulder choke. And running through it all the drink and the laughter, both seemingly endless.
I remember it all.
Cyril Johnson, a member in the late 1950s, recently contacted us with some additional details about the Poulelva song, of which more late, and kindly provided some memories of how he started with the club. This will resonate with members old and new, and it's great to see that not a lot has changed!
When I came to the University of Bristol in 1957, I was provided with lodgings in Jubilee Road, Knowle, some way out from the centre. I shared the digs with P. Richard (Dick) Blatchford. Dick was from Plymouth and had done some caving in the small outcrop of Devonian Limestone near the edge of the city.
On our first weekend in residence, I went into Clifton to look at the Suspension Bridge and other wonders impressive to one from the flat lands of Eastern England. While I was doing this, Dick Blatchford went to the Mendips with the UBSS. He had joined at the Freshers Squash, an event where Student Societies tried to attract members of the student body to their ranks. It was held in the Victoria Rooms.
Dick obviously enjoyed his time on Mendip and told me of the UBSS Hut and the evening visit to The Plume of Feathers, the pub in Wrington. I cannot recall that he mentioned going into a cave, but I expect that he did do so. The visit to the pub had caught his imagination because of the singing by UBSS members, accompanied by “a man with a guitar”. We now know him as the late Dr Oliver Lloyd.
Dick’s enthusiasm gave me the idea that I might like it too. The first thing for me was to get a helmet and a lamp. These came from Caswells at Midsomer Norton, a village to the south of Bristol. I also had some old clothes and boots sent from home. So I was set up to try caving for myself on the first suitable Saturday.
When that day arrived, Dick and I got down to Bristol Bus Station and boarded what we thought was the right bus. We were wrong, and ended up at Blagdon, so had to walk to Burrington, and up to the UBSS Hut. We were too late to join a cave party, so we were put to work cooking the evening meal. I remember that among the ingredients, in addition to cans of stewed steak, were wild fungi, what I would have called toadstools, but I was assured that they were safe to eat, having been gathered by Dr Oliver Lloyd himself. So Dick and I cooked the evening meal and in due course joined the throng around the fire. It all seemed very convivial. I cannot remember going down to The Plume. Eventually I found a bunk to sleep on and some blankets to wrap myself in and went to sleep.
Next morning, I was relieved to find that nobody had died of fungus poisoning during the night and I prepared for the caving planned for the day. It turned out that a trip to cave called Eastwater (of which I knew nothing) was planned. Dick and I got a lift in Dr Lloyd’s car and off we went to the village called Priddy. I think that the farmer responsible for the cave required a payment of 1 shilling, or 5 pence in modern money. Oliver collected the money and returned with the key to the cave entrance and down we went. The way in went through a jumble of huge boulders. Later I learned that such a feature was called a ruckle of boulders and what I mostly remember is scrambling about in the spaces between them. The light from my carbide lamp was surprisingly good but the burning acetylene gas produced an unpleasant smell. Eventually we emerged from the cave. I remember the wonderful smell of fresh air as we did so. I think that we went back to Bristol by bus, having walked to the main A38 at Langford. In those days, the last bus back to Bristol went from Langford at 11.00 pm.
This small sample of caving induced me to take it up, and at more or less every weekend in term time I went down a cave on Mendip. I never went to Stoke Lane Slocker, rumours of contamination with sewage deterred me, but I went down most of the others. I went to County Clare in Ireland in 1958 and 1959.
Adam Britton from Ron Clark Electricals next to one of our new heaters. No one could have been more helpful and accommodating than Adam, he's an utter star!
The good news is that we have a new heating system in the Stables? The bad news - believe it or not, there isn't any, although it was a bit of a saga to get there, as museum curator, Linda Wilson explains.
The Prologue
Cast your minds back to last March, dear readers ... a new staircase was installed just before the first lockdown, but then almost immediately afterwards, the gas heater in the museum display unit was condemned, so numerous discussions with Estates ensued, in which the hope was that as all the heaters were the same age, the likelihood was that once they were all accessible again, the whole lot were likely to get the boot, thereby paving the way for new, thermostatically controlled electric heating.
Act 1, Scene 1
Bugger all happens, coz covid.
Act 1, Scene 2
Bugger all keeps happening, still coz covid.
Act 2, Scene 1
All the other heaters do get condemned. Winter is approaching, so the emails from Harassed Museum Curator to Equally Harassed But Helpful Facilities Manager become more frequent, as do her emails to Estates.
Act 2, Scene 2 - The Site Meeting
Museum Curator goes to site to find the approved contractors discussing where to bring the water pipes into the building for the new gas boiler.
Museum Curator squeals very loudly and lists all the reasons why water does not mix well with museums and libraries. It transpires that due to various moves in Estates, the original discussions were lost in the mists of time coz covid. Harrassed Museum Curator stands firm re needing electric heating not gas, helpfully backed by our Site Technical Advisor from Geography, Stu Bellamy (who is worth his weight in gold, and used to share a flat with UBSS caver Simon Grace!) and our Facilities Manager. End result, Estates and the contractors go away to produce a new spec.
Act 2, Scene 3
Another site meeting, this time with new contractors brought in to do the electric heating. Found contractors waiting outside the archaeology store, having been told the wrong building. Museum Curator corrects minor misapprehension (sorry, archaeology, no new heating system for you!) and incredibly helpful site meeting ensues.
Act 3, Scene 1
Before two of the electric heaters can go in, the gas ones need to come out. Previous contractor enters stage left and Museum Curator spends a day down there while two guys work incredibly hard to get all the gas out. Removing the old, rusted, cemented in place flues was definitely akin to performance art, involving phone calls to security to get the bike shed opened and Museum Curator acting as human doorstop for an hour. Eventually, the flues succumbed to gentle and reasoned argument and Elvis left the building. By 5pm the week before Xmas eve, a long day drew to a close and all the gas had gone. The guys did a brilliant job and made good and cleaned up after themselves.
New over door heater in the museum display room.
Act 3, Scene 2
Electrical contracts enter stage right. They were also totally brilliant, and two long days were spent installing heaters in full consultation with Now Not So Harassed Museum Curator and Librarian. The end result is that we now have an electric heater in each room, all thermostatically controlled. The one in the museum display room is mounted over the door, and the one in the library stack is wall mounted above the stairs. We are monitoring heat levels to get the best winter setting, and our Friendly Electrician is popping in this week for a few final checks and tittles. In addition, scaffolding will need to go up at some point to make good on the exterior, but that won't involve us needing to do anything, but don't be alarmed when scaffolding does appear at some point.
All the work was paid for by Estates. In addition, the club paid for an additional double plug in the committee room to facilitate two people working separately under covid restrictions and another one in the library stack room over the window so that a researcher can work at the desk there when the other room is occupied.
New heater in the museum stack room and new double plug socket.
Acknowledgements: our facilities manager Amy Warburton; everyone in Estates who worked on this, in particular Nathan; Stu Bellamy from Geography; Adam Britton and the guys from Ron Clark Electricals who were absolutely fantastic throughout; Dan Paterson from Shield Services Group who dealt with the removal of the gas; and last, but certainly not least, Tony Boycott, our librarian, who always appears like a genii from a bottle whenever he's summoned to help. Thank you, one and all!
Now Not So Harassed Museum Curator
Our very own media savvy mammoth decided to entertain the folks on twitter with a do it yourself mammoth Christmas tree ornament, so here it is so you can make one yourself in time for the next festive season!
Photo from Mark Tringham. Unfortunately, I don't know where it's from, so any guesses on a postcard to me, please, and Mark, if you see this, could you let me know?
One of the things that makes our job as editors easier is having a good stock of photos to draw on for articles, so with that in mind, we'd like to put together a photo library, and we know the club has lots of talented photographers, so please, please dig around in your computer files or your slides or your old shoe boxes and let us have some photos!
We're after anything any everything: caves in the UK, caves abroad, cavers partying etc etc.
All photos made available by whatever means and used here will be credited to the photographer. And in making stuff available, please could you give the name of the cave and where it is and (if you remember), the names of any people in the shots.
We're not after high art (although that's always nice). Even basic snapshots can usually be cropped into something usable.
If you have anything you can let us have, please contact Linda.
More helictites in Shatter Cave. Photo by Linda Wilson.
The padlock combination for entry to Fairy cave Quarry has been changed. The following statement has been received from the Management Committee for the quarry. Please note that due to the latest covid tiers, leader trips into Shatter Cave and Withyhill have been suspended, but the other caves remain open, providing you can visit without breaching covid guidance.
To obtain the new combination, please contact Merryn, Graham or Linda.
New Padlock Combination at Fairy Cave Quarry
From January 1st 2021 the combination for the entrance gate to Fairy Cave Quarry will be changed. The new combination will be available from the major Mendip caving clubs and Fairy Cave Quarry Management Committee. A reminder that the combination must not be passed on to non cavers/climbers since the quarry owners do not give permission for general access and doing so may risk future access to the quarry. Please also use clean hands when handling the padlock, we have very occasionally had problems with the padlock due to ingress of grit, but these have been quickly resolved.
Due to the enclosed nature of the caves within the quarry warden led trips are currently suspended. Other caves within the quarry remain open provided cavers abide by the current Government regulations etc. in particular with regard to the travel guidelines and numbers/households. However, as of 26th December the quarry is in Tier 3 and this effectively closes the quarry to all but those that live within the immediate vicinity of the quarry until restrictions are lifted. When restrictions are lifted please also bear in mind that it is not just a question of "are caves indoors or outdoors?" but more a question of "is the particular cave more like an indoor or outdoor environment?" from a Covid19 point of view.
As in the previous statement:
It is advised that any recommendation and advice from the Government, BCRC & BCA are followed along with the following:-
It is recommended that you use a hand sanitiser before and after handling padlocks and gates.
It is important to minimise risks as much as possible, therefore cave within your capability.
Although MCR are operational it may take longer for a callout response from MCR and other emergency services.
To reduce the risk of meeting other cavers underground, bearing in mind the restricted nature of the caves in FCQ, it is suggested that a discrete note be put on the dashboard of parked vehicles with just the name of cave (or cave initials) and possibly the intended route (do not put times etc). It is recommended that you have a plan “B” if you are likely to meet other cavers underground.
Ash dieback is affecting trees throughout the Mendip area including in and around the quarry and car park. This can seriously impact on the strength and reliability of even large trees in particular during and after windy conditions. An inspection of the ash trees will be carried out in the near future.
Correspondence! Yay! It's always great to get letters that extend our knowledge of the club's history, so many thanks to former member Cyril Johnson for supplying this extra information about the authorship of the Poulelva song.
Greetings!
My friend, Mr Barry Perratt, has drawn my attention to the statement in the UBSS monthly news that the " Poulelva" song was the work of Dr Oliver Lloyd.
I have to point out that this is not quite the case. The song dates from 1959 and Barry Perratt (still a UBSS member) and I started to write it in the Autumn of 1959.
Oliver wrote the verses :-
This isn't the end of the story, it isn't the finish by far
We covered ourselves in glory, bright as the Morning Star
For some went down Polnagollum and others down Elva's Pot
And we shook hands in the middle, thus making 6 miles the lot
I am no longer a member of UBSS, but I used to be at one time. I expect that Poulelva is the proper Irish name, but we called it Polelva.
As to the rest who knows who wrote that? Should not this be recorded somewhere?
Best wishes,
Cyril Johnson
Apologies to Andrew Atkinson, who was present at the EGM but sadly wasn't recorded on the attendance list! We'd hate Andrew to have wasted eight minutes of his life - and so would he!
There was a hotly fought contest again for the last issue and there's all to play for still in the overall competition for 2020! The overall winner will be announced in our next issue, and don't forget, there are PRIZES, both for the individual heats and the overall competition. So, with a huge drum roll, here we go with the winners from last month ...
First past the post was Megan Malpas, who emailed to say: "I’m writing this instead of watching my lecture." But then in a fit of unaccustomed honesty, our wonderful social secretary promptly disqualified herself with a subsequent admission: "However I admit I didn’t read to the end so I don’t deserve to win." So Megan wins the honesty prize, where virtue is it's own reward!
So the actual winner was former student hon sec from many years ago, Ian Wheeler, and his prize of a keyring torch was promptly dispatched! He also came good with the promised article, which has appeared in this edition!
- I did! (And I am half way through writing that article I promised. Someone has made me Head of Sixth Form in the meantime and my life has got a lot busier. But it will be finished! It's got nakedness and trespass and is crammed with hot gypsies.) (Ian Wheeler)
- Love the scam email exchange! (Kirsten Hopkins)
- I read to the end! Fuelled by some Christmas songs.... (Helen Frawley)
- Yis, me red end. (Zac Woodford) (Eds: What do they teach them in school these days?)
- Super photos! And I promise, next time I’ll remember I actually have a waterproof phone case. (Jan Walker)
- Reading this was a way better method of avoiding writing code than sitting staring at a wall ... (Chris Howes)
- ... (Bob Churcher) (Ed. note: Brevity is clearly the soul of wit, and we got the drift.!)
- Another great issue, albeit mysteriously sent to the junk folder but retrieved thanks to the FB post… (Andy Farrant) (Ed. note: Keep the compliments coming, we like the ego boost!)
- This time I have!! (Tony Boycott) (Ed. note: He still hasn't read the September issue, though, and we haven't forgotten that!)
- I particularly liked the PLS story. (Hans Friederich)
- This time I’m going for the last person to respond award.
If there isn't one, there should be! (Carol Walford) (Ed. note: Well,
there wasn't, but there can be! But sorry, Carol, you weren't the last!)
- Good Newsletter, thanks. Amazing how you can still get material
even in Covid times. Back in the day used to take me multiple Tuesday
pub sessions to coax articles out of fellow students. (Bill Miners)
- No prize for me, sadly, as I’ve been shovelling shit all day
… FT and I have, though, read to the end. Great range of content
and some stunning pix. I think I’m most impressed by the rewrite of The
Pogues’ Rainy Night in Soho! (Sharon Wheeler)
So the additional new prize for the last person to tell us they made it through to the end goes to Sharon Wheeler!
Now,
who read to the end this time? Late entries accepted! For those new to
the game, there will be a splendid prize for the first person to read to
the end and tell us that you did!
THE END