Hemingbrough Bear Garden: Thursday 15th June 2017

Thursday, 15 June 2017

Thursday 15th June 2017 – Parish Council Night (1)

After describing long-term resident Vic Parkin on the blog yesterday, and his independent platform for running in the Parish Election on Tuesday 27^th June 2017, I had hoped to describe the second candidate tonight.

He didn’t turn up at the Parish Council, not even to see what happens there, so I can’t.

Vic was there to ask the irascible Chairman a question about who pays for the pumping out of possibly contaminated water from the diesel tanks, especially if the Parish History Group is wound up?

Could it be the residents?

The recent acrimonious History of Hemingbrough Parish Council told in 629 Blog Posts

London’s most famous Bear Garden served as both a theatre and a bear-baiting, blood sports arena.

The bloodthirsty entertainment consisted of vicious dogs attacking tethered victims. The bear, chained to a pole in the centre of the ring, was set upon by a pack of dogs that tried to kill the bear by biting its throat. The bear was baited for about an hour.

Bear baiting started in England during the Middle Ages. It was patronised by all classes of Elizabethans including the Queen, courtiers and diplomats. In 1648, theatres were closed by the Puritans but Bear-Baiting was allowed to continue and was popular throughout the Puritan era. The practice died out as people became more civilised and considerate.

Records don’t show if the eleven Parish Council participants are direct descendants of the Elizabethans who enjoyed that blood sport more than 400 years ago or if this is a recently formed re-enactment group. All appears normal at first. There is the fifteen-minute public open-forum when the occasional resident will talk about a local problem. Sometimes, the local constabulary puts in an appearance as a warm-up act to talk about the declining, reported crime rates. Soon, the opening ritual is over. Life will continue for another month, nothing will change, and the supporting cast troops out to leave the bear-baiters in private to get on with the main event. Because of the high-cost of bears, and general disapproval of such blood sports outside the village, the bear has been replaced by a Parish Councillor. He is quickly chained to a pole and the baiting and blood-letting starts. Passions are aroused, and soon the blood is boiling and Councillors are jumping up and down on their chairs. Participation varies from the simmering, smouldering, pressure cookers to the angry, eye-bulging explosives that can be heard throughout the village. Occasionally, the two Selby District Referees will walk out in disgust only to return a month later to see if the victims survived and will endure another round. This may have continued in secret for many years but one night an ‘incomer’, ignorant of the rules, stayed behind when the other two residents and the constabulary paraded out. He had had the audacity to mention the words ‘complacency’ and ‘Councillors’ during the warm-up. Sensing a new victim, and scenting blood and easy prey, the attack dogs tore into him with a vengeance. In his innocence, the incomer had brought a notepad and pencil with him to make-up for his failing memory. In that hysterical, charged atmosphere, however, the chief dog-warden could see only a ‘pointy-stick’ instead of a pencil. He tried to restrain his pack with the warning “Can I remind councillors the resident is writing down everything we say!” but they were already off the leash for the rest of the night. After the meeting, the incomer earned a mild rebuke from the Parish Clerk. "A quiet, polite and gentle approach was thought to be confrontational and a breach of bear garden etiquette." Councillors were horrified when the incomer kept turning up armed with his pointy sticks. Eventually, a professional from the Yorkshire Local Councils Associations was sneaked into the village by some Councillors for a clandestine review of the rules. That clique decided to reinforce their side for the next baiting by inviting the YLCA professional to join them. In true local form, they forgot she was supposed to be on their side and rounded on her instead and when she accused them of being very disrespectful to her, she was silenced by a shout from the sidelines, “It’s always like this!” That well and truly rounded off her lousy day. Only that afternoon, she had to give a personal apology to the incomer for what she had written about him, and there he was reading out details as a prelude to the blood-letting.

The February 2009 Parish Council Meeting was interrupted by the former Chairman during a particularly nasty bit of bear baiting by shouting “There’s a Mole in here! I told you there was a Mole.”

The present Chairman responded immediately with “We are not talking about that! We are not talking about that!” He tends to repeat himself when agitated in the style of the late Fred Elliot, the Coronation Street butcher.

As my name was mentioned and the former Chairman was waving his arms in my direction, I wondered if either of them had accused a colleague of giving me privileged or confidential information. For some months, Councillors have wondered how I can be so well briefed.

There was the notorious case when I challenged the Yorkshire Local Councils Associations and received their apology for an inappropriate characterisation of me. During that embarrassing fiasco, their Chief Executive had written to me expressing his Association’s view that “the document to which you refer may not have been legitimately obtained.” As ‘the document’ had been circulated only within the parish council, his view meant a Councillor must have broken the rules and slipped me a copy on the sly. The day after I challenged the Chief Executive about the Association’s view he went on long-term sick leave and it was left to his Deputy to explain they repeat only the words they are given. As an aside, let me state that ‘Elvis is alive and living in Hemingbrough’. When they have read this, I wonder if they will repeat those words too!

What the YLCA did not understand, and neither did Parish Councillors, was some months ago I had asked the Parish Clerk to give me the Council briefing papers three days before the meeting, as well as their Agenda, which is a practice recommended by the National Association of Local Councils.

Either the Clerk did not tell Councillors I had taken advantage of that recommendation, or Councillors had not understood or forgotten the ramifications. As nobody asked me how I knew so much, I sat there laughing inwardly about their agitation and hunt for the imaginary mole.

As a tourist attraction, perhaps Parish Councillors will consider an annual Hemingbrough Mole Hunting Festival? It beggars belief!

Having invented The Hemingbrough Mole, Councilors tried to prove it existed. To help them, here it is, in the village Convenience Shop. It will be making photo calls at various village locations. Maybe the Bear Garden?

The Mole leaflet I displayed at the village Post Office on Saturday morning was torn down before the early afternoon, much to the surprise of the Postmistress who has never known anything like it before.

Perhaps the person who did that could put one pound in a charity box to cover what I paid to have it displayed, and leave me a message, even an anonymouse one, on the blog.

What humans say about us.

Moles are not the most beautiful of animals. The common mole is a small pest with a rounded body and a snout. Moles spend most all their lives underground not seeing what goes on around them. They dig and dig, and can’t stop digging. If you encounter piles of dirt, this is certain evidence of mole activity.

The sexes are very similar in appearance, but males are usually slightly larger. Female moles are the only mammals that possess a normal ovary as well as a testicular area that produces a large amount of testosterone. This may explain why female moles are as aggressive as males when defending their territories. It may also account for the external similarities between males and females.

There is no conservation action targeted at this species.