The Archer and the Jester: A Lineage of Subversive Freedom

In the quiet, hilly streets of Bollington, far from the coal-dusted valleys of Maesteg or the ancient earth of Llantrisant, I am simply Gabblewack. To the casual observer, I am the village fool—a character occasionally tolerated, sometimes dismissed, and always kept at a slight arm’s length. Yet, beneath the motley, there is a bloodline that hums with a much older, more militant frequency. I am a descendant of the "Black Army" of Llantrisant, a lineage of archers who, by the grace of the Black Prince, were granted a freedom passed down in perpetuity for nearly seven centuries.

The Black Army: A Heritage of Defiance

The legend is well-worn but no less potent. In 1346, as the clouds of war gathered over the fields of Crécy in France, a band of men from the hilltop town of Llantrisant were recruited into the vanguard. They were archers—men of the soil—who cleared the crossing for the English army, displaying a ferocity that earned them the moniker "The Black Army."

Upon their return, they were granted the Freedom of the Borough. It was a radical gift for the era: a recognition that these commoners, through their courage, had earned a level of autonomy that placed them, in a specific legal sense, above the typical constraints of the medieval peasantry. It was a local mafia of sorts—an insular, protected brotherhood that guarded its status with fierce pride.

My connection to this is not one of geography, but of blood. My father, a man of the Maesteg valleys, passed down this ancient charge to me—a legacy that has traveled from the Welsh hills through the industrial valleys and finally to the streets of Bollington. I am a Freeman by inheritance and a traveler by nature, carrying a seven-hundred-year-old decree in a world that rarely looks further back than last week.

The Fool: The Ultimate Freedom

In the medieval court, the Fool was the only person permitted to speak truth to power. While the nobles postured and the politicians schemed, the Fool wore the mask of absurdity to reveal the naked reality of the room. I have come to realize that this is the hidden link to my ancestral inheritance.

The Freemen of Llantrisant were defined by their defiance—the refusal to be mere pawns in a royal game. The Fool is defined by the same quality. He is unmoored from social expectations and immune to the vanity that traps the powerful. My ancestors fought to secure a patch of earth; as Gabblewack, I fight to secure a patch of truth. Both roles require a fundamental rejection of "the way things are." One did it with a longbow, the other with a sharp tongue and a bell-trimmed hat. Both are, in their own way, acts of rebellion.

From the Valleys to Bollington

The topography of my life has shifted. I did not grow up in Llantrisant, and my father's roots were firmly in the grit of Maesteg. Yet, as I walk through Bollington—a place of steep hills and industrial history—I have made a discovery that bridges the gap between my past and my present: people are the same the world over.

The vanity, the fears, and the tendency to build metaphorical walls—these are universal human traits. Whether in a 14th-century Welsh borough or a 21st-century Cheshire village, the human theater remains identical. By moving through the world as an inheritor of Welsh tradition living in an English landscape, I have learned that the "Freedom" I possess isn't tied to the soil where it was earned, but to the blood that carries it. I am a Freeman in exile, using the sharp wit of the fool to navigate a town that has become my stage.

Bridging the Gap

Being Gabblewack is not a surrender of my heritage, but an evolution of it. The Black Army was a group of outsiders who stepped into the spotlight of history and demanded recognition. The Fool is an outsider who steps into the spotlight of the village and reminds the world that its "order" is often just a fragile illusion.

Some might say the honor of being a Freeman has been diluted over seven hundred years. But I choose to see it differently. The freedom granted by the Black Prince wasn't just a right to graze sheep; it was a right to exist outside the standard hierarchy of the time. That is the legacy I carry.

When I walk the streets of Bollington, I am reminded that I am a product of the longbow and the jester’s bell. I am a Freeman by blood and a fool by choice. In a world that is increasingly obsessed with status, titles, and performative importance, there is perhaps no greater freedom than the one I possess: the freedom to be exactly who I am, regardless of what the village—or the history books—think.

The Black Army proved that common men could change the course of a battle. Gabblewack proves that a fool can change the tone of a conversation. Both are, after all, simply different ways of serving the truth.

The Bollington War Graves: A Community Neglect

 

The Silence at St John’s:  

As you wander along Church Street in Bollington, you will see the now increasingly derelict St John’s church. With dwindling numbers of worshippers, the site has been waiting for developers for some time. But there is a shadow hanging over this land: as planning applications for the site move forward, the future of our 15 Commonwealth war graves is in peril. They must not be disturbed or relocated. Furthermore, hidden somewhere beneath the moss and thick, overgrown grass lies a veteran of the Battle of Waterloo. This churchyard is a sacred historical record, not a wilderness to be sanitised for profit.

The Discovery

Just over a year ago, my neighbour—a former member of the Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders—told me about these graves, which he had cared for since he first discovered them. To my surprise, I found there are 15 Commonwealth war graves in the cemetery—an unusually large number for a small town like ours.

All but two of the graves contain victims of the First World War who died in service or after returning home with injuries sustained in service. Most are marked with the familiar white Portland stone headstones. Four of the servicemen were interred in family graves at the expense of the Commonwealth War Graves Commission.

When I visited St John’s for the first time in June 2025, I was surprised and, to be honest, slightly ashamed. Not only was I unaware of them, but I found them in a terribly neglected and overgrown state. It was evident they were not completely forgotten; each year before Remembrance Sunday, the graves were tidied so that poppies and Union flags could be placed there for 11 November. In June, however, the evidence remained: fading flags and, behind the headstones, the tattered remains of the previous year’s offerings.

The Institutional Failure

I took it upon myself to tidy and care for the graves, and I tried to prompt Bollington Council to develop a sustainable plan for their maintenance. Their response? A reliance on "community payback" teams. While the sentiment of community involvement is fine, the execution is deeply flawed. These teams, lacking the specialised training or the personal connection required for such delicate heritage sites, arrive with strimmers. Fortunately, they do not touch or damage the war graves themselves, simply because I have already meticulously cared for them, marking them out as sacred ground. However, their presence highlights the council's failure: they outsource the maintenance of our town's history to an indiscriminate labour scheme rather than ensuring professional, respectful stewardship.
I later attended one of the councillors' drop-in sessions at the Town Hall. I made it clear that I considered it hypocritical for council members to dress in their finery and march behind the band on Remembrance Sunday when they neglect the veterans lying in our churchyard for the rest of the year. I expressed the view that if these graves were in France or Belgium, they would never have been left in such a state.

A Man, a Heritage, and an Oversight

Perhaps most offensively, among those resting here is Private Alfred Wright. He left Bollington as a young man, emigrated to Australia, and returned to fight for the Allied cause. For years, his headstone has been repeatedly inflicted with a Union Jack on Remembrance Sunday, yet he is never once remembered on Anzac Day. It is a profound failure of basic cultural awareness and a disrespect to his heritage. This year, on 1 July, I ensured that was corrected; I placed an Australian flag at his grave to honour the man he was. If we cannot even get the flag right for a man who travelled across the world to return to his home soil, it is little wonder that the care of his final resting place—and the others around him—has been left to rot. (See the biographical note below for more on Private Wright’s remarkable journey and service).

The Fool's Duty

On 1 July of this year, I held another public walk and talk on the anniversary of the Battle of the Somme. This time, I did so in my capacity as Gabblewack the Village Fool. If I could not make a difference as a private citizen, perhaps he could. Only two people attended, and we could hear the cheering for England as they scored their winning goal against the Democratic Republic of Congo.
You won’t see me at the Remembrance parade. I stopped attending during the Iraq War, the year it was hosted by an American preacher from one of our local churches. His speech echoed the same triumphalism that deterred my father and his four brothers (who all served in World War II) from attending Remembrance services. Ever since, I have played the Last Post at full volume from my flat roof to echo around White Nancy as my personal act of remembrance.

As a cognitive behavioural therapist, I have treated many who served our country in wars from World War II to Afghanistan. I do not believe we should rely on the Royal British Legion to care for the graves; their resources are better directed toward the veterans still among us. These graves have fallen into the cracks of apathy: a churchyard no longer used and thus neglected by the Church of England, a lack of consistent attention from the Commonwealth War Graves Commission, and the inability or unwillingness of our local council to engage with grassroots activists. That leaves Gabblewack—a fool—to do the job. Which he does willingly, because he now thinks of them as 'my boys', are they yours?

Biographical Note: 

Private Alfred Wright (2868)
Alfred Wright was born in 1890 in Bollington, the son of George and Martha Wright (formerly Unwin). He lived on Wellington Road in 1891 and 1901, and by 1911, he was working as a calico weaver and living at 9 Courier Road. Before emigrating to Australia to work as a miner, he was employed as a spinner at the local Waterhouse Mill and was associated with St Oswald’s.
He enlisted in the 4th Battalion, Australian Infantry, on 31 July 1915 at Newcastle, New South Wales. While serving in France, he participated in the Battle of Épehy on 18 September 1918—a dramatic success for General John Monash’s Australian divisions, though one that cost 1,260 Australian casualties.
Alfred was on leave in the UK from 24 October 1918. Tragically, he was admitted to the 2nd Western General Hospital (Alexandra Park, Stockport) on 2 November 1918 and died of pneumonia the following day, aged 27. He was buried at St John’s, Bollington, in plot 1067. He is remembered on the memorials at Bollington and St Oswald’s and is listed on the 1917 Roll of Honour.

As a cognitive behavioural therapist, I have treated many who served our country in wars from World War II to Afghanistan. I do not believe we should rely on the Royal British Legion to resolve this; their resources are better directed toward the veterans still among us. These graves have fallen into the cracks of apathy: a churchyard no longer used and thus neglected by the Church of England, a lack of consistent attention from the Commonwealth War Graves Commission, and the inability or unwillingness of our local council to engage with grassroots activists. That leaves Gabblewack—a fool—to do the job. Which he does willingly, because he now thinks of them as 'my boys', are they yours?

Postscript: 

Use of Ai 

The wonderful Bollington Parish records contain details of all the men from Bollington who served and died in both World Wars. Last year, I laboriously navigated the records to identify the names of those who served and their home addresses. This year, I asked my assistant, Google AI, to use the Bollington Parish war records as a primary source and list the streets. I encourage you to try it yourself, but also ask why the death rates were so high, or how many men returned with wounds, alcohol problems, or sexually transmitted diseases. Ask how the widows and their children were treated, or how many men suffered from what we now recognise as PTSD.

High On Singing With Happy Valley Voices

 

 Why are Bollington’s pensioners wandering around so happy? 

If you’ve spotted a group of us leaving the Ovenhouse Lane Community Centre on a Monday morning with slightly glazed, euphoric expressions, don’t worry—we aren’t under the influence of anything illicit.

We’re just high on endorphins.

The Happy Valley Voices know about the ultimate, side-effect-free mood booster: singing.

It turns out that when you get a group of people together to belt out a few tunes, the body does some pretty amazing things. We’re talking instant stress relief, a massive boost of "feel-good" brain chemicals, and a post-choir glow that lasts until Tuesday.

The best part? You don’t need to be a professional to feel the buzz. If you can breathe, you can sing—and if you can sing, you can join us!

Come get your dose of vitality.
 Where: Ovenhouse Lane Community Centre
 When: Every Monday Morning 10.30-12.00
 Who: Everyone! No auditions, just good vibes.

Come for the endorphins, stay for the tea and biscuits. See you Monday?
READ ON FOR THE SERIOUS SIDE:-
The Science of the "Choir High"
It may sound like a stretch to call a choir session a "chemical event," but the physiological changes that occur during communal singing are well-documented in the field of music psychology and neuroscience.

When we sing in a group, we are essentially triggering a "triple threat" of neurological and physiological benefits:

The Endorphin-Oxytocin Feedback Loop: Singing stimulates the release of endorphins (the body’s natural painkillers) and oxytocin (the social-bonding hormone). While endorphins alleviate physical and emotional tension, oxytocin promotes feelings of trust and reduces social anxiety. This combination explains why choir members often report a state of "euphoric calm" immediately following a session.

Vagal Tone Regulation: Singing involves controlled, diaphragmatic breathing. This deep, rhythmic respiration stimulates the vagus nerve, which runs from the brain to the abdomen. A well-stimulated vagus nerve helps lower heart rate and blood pressure, effectively shifting the body from a "fight-or-flight" (sympathetic) state to a "rest-and-digest" (parasympathetic) state.

Neural Synchronization: Research into "inter-brain synchrony" suggests that when people sing in harmony, their neural activity begins to align. This process, often referred to as "social entrainment," decreases feelings of loneliness and increases the individual's sense of belonging to a cohesive social unit.

Joining a choir can be profoundly beneficial for people living with dementia, offering a unique bridge to memory and connection. Music is deeply rooted in areas of the brain that are often preserved even as dementia progresses, allowing participants to access long-term memories, evoke positive emotions, and experience a sense of familiarity through familiar songs. Beyond memory stimulation, singing provides a powerful social outlet that helps reduce the isolation and anxiety often associated with the condition, fostering a sense of belonging and community. Furthermore, the act of singing together encourages non-verbal communication and engagement, which can improve mood, boost self-esteem, and provide a meaningful, structured activity that supports cognitive and emotional well-being.

In short, the "Happy Valley" glow isn't just a mood; it’s a measurable biological response to an activity that perfectly balances physical exertion, cognitive engagement, and deep social connection.

Trooper Josh Hammond

Trooper Joshua Hammond 1990 - 2009

In July 2009 I was driving to work lwhen the radio announced the death of Lieutenant Colonel Rupert Thorneloe MBE, Commanding Officer of the 1st Battalion Welsh Guards, becoming the most senior officer to be killed in conflict since the Falklands war in 1982. He was travelling in a convoy along the Shamalan Canal, near Lashkar Gah, in Helmand Province, southern Afghanistan when an IED (Improvised Explosive Device) exploded under his Viking armoured vehicle. The radio also reported (inaccurately) that a Trooper ‘John’ Hammond also died in the explosion. Later that day when I watched the news the name had changed to Josh Hammond but there were few details of this 18 year old lad from Plymouth.

The news of both deaths saddened me deeply, My own children and a nephew called Josh were almost the same age. I couldn’t stop thinking about his family and girlfrien were feeling out of my mind and I also felt irritated that the radio had at first got Josh’s name wrong. I felt that the death of this young man, with his whole life before him had been eclipsed by the Colonel who died by his side, tragic though that was.

Over the last 25 years I have treated ex-servicemen from almost every major conflict that our armed services have been involved in since WW2. I recalled the veterans of the Falklands and the memories they shared with me of their traumas including the deaths of their comrades, their friends.
I’m not much of a musician but I wrote the following song that night while strumming my guitar.
Every so often I when I can persuade my son (who plays well enough to help cover my basic guitar skills) I play it at an open mic: night. I ask if anyone can remember the name of anyone who died in the Falkland War. Sometimes people give the name of a family member or friend but often they remember the name of Colonel H Jones. I then ask if anyone can remember the name of anyone who died in the Afghanistan War. Many remember Lieutenant Colonel Rupert Thorneloe and then I play the song.

Each time I play it I think again of Josh, his friends and family and the families of all young men and women lost serving the government’s we elected and who may feel that their loss is not remembered.

Trooper Josh Hammond

Trooper Josh Hammond is late on parade,

On a road down in Helmand there’s been a delay

Our boys in the regiments have been this way before

We lost some back then, now were losing some more

Chorus There’s an army assembled on the North West Frontier

Echoes of empire roll down the years.

Acceptable losses a shilling of pay

a soldiers life was ever this way.

Column inches now fewer as the casualty list grows

and we’re hardened to the cost of the conflict that’s sown.

Trooper Josh Hammond has now joined the list

The caskets been lowered, the colours were dipped

Chorus

Of all of the fallen in that cold islands war

a colonel’s name is remembered, can you name one more?

Khaki falls quietly when it answers the call

but brass makes more noise when it falls.

There’s an army assembled on the North West Frontier

Echoes of empire roll down the years.

Acceptable losses a shilling of pay

a soldiers life was ever this way.

At 18 Josh Hammond slipped from his bonds

to gather with comrades in green fields beyond.

Stepping from childhood into the man

and then lost in the tears of Afghanistan.

Copyright David Raines 2009.

Poem for (Insert Name Here)

I wrote this today.
Any nominations for whose name should be inserted ?

Poem for (Insert Name Here.......................................................)

Fudge, blur and obfuscate. Dispute and disavow .
Earnestly with gravitas, deny and disallow.
Justify, exonerate, elaborate, explain.
Deceive, delay, prevaricate but never take the blame
Reject, refute, repudiate distort and then disguise
Duplicitous mendacity, but surely never lies

Conspire, contrive, collaborate, disown and then revile.
Connive , collude, and camouflage for plausible denial.
Impune, gainsay and contradict, defer and then distort .
Warp, conceal or falsify while avoiding getting caught

Wangle, wiggle, wrangle, worm ,
weasel words at every turn

Twist and garble, gloss over, hide
terminological in-exactitudes explained and then denied
Pervert and warp , misstate then empathise.
He may mislead or misrepresent but surely never lies.

©David Raines 2011

The Anonymous Airman & The Man Who Put the Fire in the Spitfire.


This is the story of an unsung hero of the second world war. A man who perhaps more than any other individual was responsible for making sure that the fire was put in the Spitfire. A man who was sidelined by history after fighting for the rights of British pilots stationed in Canada.

On June 18, 1940 Winston Churchill made his “Finest Hour” speech and announced to Parliament that the Battle of France had finished and The Battle of Britain was about to begin. That morning The Times published an anonymous letter from a young bomber pilot to be sent to his mother in the event of his death. The letter was found by the airman’s commanding officer Group Captain C. H. Keith, who was so moved by it that he contacted the pilot’s mother and with her permission it was published. In the first few days after publication The Times was inundated with over 10,000 requests for copies and in August it was published as a book. By the end of the year over 500,000 copies had been sold in the U.K. and it was reprinted 12 times in the USA .

Perhaps it was inevitable that rumours suggesting the letter was fictitious started to circulate. The pilot was eventually identified as Flying Officer Vivian Rosewarne and his death notice was finally published on 23 December 1940. In 1941 Michael Powell released a short documentary style propaganda film An Airman's Letter to His Mother featuring the voice of John Gielgud. The most famous portrait painter of the day, Frank Salisbury used photographs provided by his mother for a painting which was unveiled on 18 September 1941, although his mother attended, she wished to remain anonymous desiring to be known only as "the mother of the young unknown warrior". A copy of the painting hangs in the RAF College at Cranwell and his letter is reproduced in the RAF book ‘Leadership’. Group Captain Keith died in 1966 and linked with Flying Officer Rosewarne’s letter became a footnote in history. The story of the Commanding Officer who was at the centre of the RAF’s preparations for war and helped to ensure that our Spitfires and Hurricanes went into the Battle of Britain with the right weapons. A man who, perhaps more than any other individual can be said to have ‘ put the fire in the Spitfire’. A man who was sidelined and prematurely retired after fighting for the rights of RAF personnel in Canada with questions asked in Parliament.

In the early 1970’s Group Captain C. H. Keith’s widow gave up her little antique shop in Romsey and on his last visit she gave a package to the slightly nerdy teenager who visited her shop after school. Saying, “ I know you will look after them”, The parcel contained a carved wooden crest for RAF Worthy Down, a copy of her husband’s book, his pilot’s handbook for the Cairo to Baghdad route and two small books, an English and an American copy of “An Airman’s Letter to His Mother”. The books included newspaper clippings about the story, three photographs of a young airman and one contains a handwritten note “To his Commanding Officer Group Captain C. H. Keith. With much appreciation of all he has done in connection with this letter. From the
Airman’s Mother, 21 August 1940”.

--------------------------------------------------------------
Dearest Mother:

Though I feel no premonition at all, events are moving rapidly and I have instructed that this letter be forwarded to you should I fail to return from one of the raids that we shall shortly be called upon to undertake. You must hope on for a month, but at the end of that time you must accept the fact that I have handed my task over to the extremely capable hands of my comrades of the Royal Air Force, as so many splendid fellows have already done.

First, it will comfort you to know that my role in this war has been of the greatest importance. Our patrols far out over the North Sea have helped to keep the trade routes clear for our convoys and supply ships, and on one occasion our information was instrumental in saving the lives of the men in a crippled lighthouse relief ship. Though it will be difficult for you, you will disappoint me if you do not at least try to accept the facts dispassionately, for I shall have done my duty to the utmost of my ability. No man can do more, and no one calling himself a man could do less.
I have always admired your amazing courage in the face of continual setbacks; in the way you have given me as good an education and background as anyone in the country: and always kept up appearances without ever losing faith in the future. My death would not mean that your struggle has been in vain. Far from it. It means that your sacrifice is as great as mine. Those who serve England must expect nothing from her; we debase ourselves if we regard our country as merely a place in which to eat and sleep.

History resounds with illustrious names who have given all; yet their sacrifice has resulted in the British Empire where there is a measure of peace, justice and freedom for all, and where a higher standard of civilization has evolved, and is still evolving, than anywhere else. But this is not only concerning our own land. Today we are faced with the greatest organized challenge to Christianity and civilization that the world has ever seen, and I count myself lucky and honoured to be the right age and fully trained to throw my full weight into the scale. For this I have to thank you. Yet there is more work for you to do. The home front will still have to stand united for years after the war is won. For all that can be said against it, I still maintain that this war is a very good thing: every individual is having the chance to give and dare all for his principle like the martyrs of old. However long the time may be, one thing can never be altered - I shall have lived and died an Englishman. Nothing else matters one jot nor can anything ever change it.

You must not grieve for me, for if you really believe in religion and all that it entails that would be hypocrisy. I have no fear of death; only a queer elation ... I would have it no other way. The universe is so vast and so ageless that the life of one man can only be justified by the measure of his sacrifice. We are sent to this world to acquire a personality and a character to take with us that can never be taken from us. Those who just eat and sleep, prosper and procreate, are no better than animals if all their lives they are at peace.

I firmly believe that evil things are sent into the world to try us; they are sent deliberately by our Creator to test our mettle because He knows what is good for us. The Bible is full of cases where the easy way out has been discarded for moral principles.

I count myself fortunate in that I have seen the whole country and known men of every calling. But with the final test of war I consider my character fully developed. Thus at my early age my earthly mission is already fulfilled and I am prepared to die with just one regret: that I could not devote myself to making your declining years more happy by being with you; but you will live in peace and freedom and I shall have directly contributed to that, so here again my life will not have been in vain.
Your loving son



I was that teenage boy who sat and chatted with Mrs Keith about a war that didn’t feel like ‘history’ to me , it was the story of my parent’s early lives, something recent, tangible and real that touched and shaped my family. As a child I imagined myself in a Spitfire as I sped down the road on my bike, splashing through the holiday surf with my brothers we stormed imaginary beaches. We set ambushes in the woods before going home to make Airfix models that were destined to make their last raid just after the bangers went on sale for bonfire night.

Those models were of aircraft that my Dad and Uncle Edwin had flown, that Uncle’s Fred & Bill had serviced and repaired. They were the planes that rumbled over my Mothers Huntingdon home on their way to Berlin or the Ruhr. The black and white films and war documentaries had not been prematurely aged by Technicolor and were followed by black and white episodes of Dr Who. My own daughter when very young talked about “black & white days” believing that there was a time long ago when there was no colour in the world. I learnt to read with the Victor comic and then leapt to Ministry of Information books about the War. My interest was rewarded with gifts of badges, medals and more books, each with a personal story. The Polish Air Force ‘wings’ given to Auntie Flo from the Polish airman billeted to her home. The Royal Observer Corp button from Uncle Roy who watched from a warship as the D. Day landings took place. The Royal Electrical and Mechanical Engineers cap badge from Uncle Alan whose gruesome task involved recovering damaged Sherman tanks, nicknamed ‘Ronson’s’ (after the cigarette lighter) by its crews and ‘Tommy cooker’ by the Germans because they burst into flames when hit. I remember the shock as I turned the pages of the last volume of “The War in Pictures 1945” to see the mass graves at Belsen and started to understand what it was that they had been fighting for or perhaps, what we had been fighting against.

Seen through modern eyes, with its references to religion and empire the Airman’s Letter to his Mother seems dated, for some its themes of duty, sacrifice and patriotism are distant relics of “black & white days”.

The nerdy teenagers fascination with war subsided and it became an interest among others. Apart from occasional ‘Gollum’ like moments poring over the ‘precious’, the books remained on the shelf until recently. Somehow I had missed the other half of the story. I had read the books and missed the importance of Claude Keith in the critical preparations for war ensuring the RAF was equipped with the right equipment to win the Battle of Britain.

Claude H. Keith was born in Canada in 1884 and trained as an electrical engineer with the Marconi Telegraph Company. In 1909 he witnessed Louis Bleriot land in Dover after the first air crossing of the British Channel. After joining the RNAS as an electrical engineer he transferred to aircrew in 1916 and qualified on seaplanes. Shortly afterwards he was charged with “endangering one of His Majesty’s aircraft” by looping the loop, a year later he was teaching young pilot’s aerobatics as part of basic training. After the war he transferred to the RAF and specialised in navigation and gunnery and was appointed chief instructor of the first Royal Air Force armament school in 1925.

He served in Iraq between 1926-1930 as a squadron leader in 70 bomber squadron then 6 Fighter squadron and took part in the Trans Oman Expedition of 1927. During his work in Iraq, 6 squadron achieved the first 100% of bullets on target with congratulations to the squadron from the Chief of Air Staff.

From 1930 to 1937 he was intimately involved in the RAF’s preparation for war at the Ordnance Board and then the Air Ministry as Assistant Director of Armament Research and Development .In July 1934 he organised an informal conference to consider air gunnery which led to the formation of the ‘Air Fighting Committee’. Keith and his team showed that future aircraft should carry eight machine guns capable of firing at least 1,000 rounds per minute. Both the number of guns and the rate of fire was seen as revolutionary but with the support of Air Vice Marshall Tedder the decision was made. Further input from Keith and his team led the RAF to replace the English Vickers machine gun with the more reliable American Browning machine guns which became the main armament for Spitfires and Hurricanes in the Battle of Britain. These guns used the same bullets as a rifle and it was soon realised that a more powerful weapon was needed.

Keith played a key role in the decision to introduce the French designed Hispano 20 mm cannon after a visit to France in 1936. The Hispano cannon was first used in 1940 but early trials in Hurricanes and Spitfires found that the gun could jam during combat. After modifications it became standard armament and one of the most used aircraft guns of the 20th Century allowing Spitfires and Hurricanes to make effective attacks on ground targets and enemy shipping. Keith also played a part in the introduction of the power-driven gun turret that became standard equipment in British bombers.

He was station commander at RAF Worthy Down in 1936 and for the first year of the war he was Commander at RAF Marham, a heavy bomber station where the young Wellington Bomber pilot Vivian Rosewarne was based.

In April 1941 Keith became the first Commanding Officer of Picton Gunnery School. The Commonwealth Air Training Plan provided Canadian and RAF personnel with training bases away from the dangers and restrictions of training in Britain. Unlike the members of the RAF, Royal Canadian Air Force personnel paid the lower Canadian rate of tax and were let of all tax if they flew more than average time each year. This and other “ hardships”, produced “bitterness” and “dissatisfaction” among the RAF personnel serving in Canada. Keith presented a list of “20 points of hardship” which he felt should be removed. He managed to get six of the twenty points cleared up before being unexpectedly recalled to England in April of 1942, despite the Canadian Chief of Air Staff requesting that he be allowed to remain.

He was assigned to command the RAF Central Gunnery School at Sutton Bridge but after a short period of sickness and a recommendation from the medical officer that he should serve in the South of England he was listed as “supernumerary” at the age of 53.

In Parliament on 3rd February 1943 Tom Driberg, M.P asked why Keith had been recalled and why it was proposed to retire him, saying; “is it not a fact that this officer was brought back from Canada after serving eight months, although it had been laid down that he should serve not less than 18 months, and that he was given the highest tributes, officially and unofficially, for his efficiency? “. The Secretary of State for Air replied that a policy had been in place since “the summer of 1941, under which senior officers must give way to younger men when circumstances so require” and “deplored” that individual officers were named. Driberg responded by saying “Is it not more deplorable that they should be treated unjustly? “ Keith reported first hearing of this after receiving a copy of Hansard in the post. Within a few months he retired and subsequently took a post with the BBC as an announcer.
His insistence that hardships for RAF staff in Canada be removed led to two meetings of the Air Council and to a final concession of all the “20 points of hardships” he had raised.

“I Hold My Aim “ is the motto of the Air Gunnery School and also the title of Group Captain Keith’s book published in 1946 where he writes:-
“I ran my Station commands as a dictator –a benevolent one, I hope –and I built the efficiency of my units through the happy, hard work of my airmen. They knew I should bite them when they deserved it, and fight like hell for them when they merited it. I have always refused to be a ‘Yes Man’ when it affected my doing what I thought to be right for those under me. That is probably why I am in plain clothes, as I write this book.”

Sidelined from the official history except as the Commanding Officer of an anonymous young pilot Group Captain Keith died in 1966 and was survived by his wife Gwen (nee Dunkerley).

The 70th Anniversary of the battle of Britain prompted me to look again at the books and to search the Internet, though little was to be found. I have created a Wikipedia entry for Group Captain Keith, up-dated the entries for 58 squadron and ‘An Airman’s Letter to his Mother’ including copies of the photographs of Viviane Rosewarne from the books given to Group Captain Keith.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Claude_Hilton_Keith
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/An_Airman%27s_Letter_to_His_Mother

The Hedge, The Fool, and the Sanctuary of White Nancy

HTML

Twenty-five years ago, a group of conservation volunteers arrived on the path to White Nancy, Bollington. They had come to restore a 200-yard stretch of hedgerow that had been left neglected for more than two decades.

A stroll below White Nancy Part 2

The unintended consequence of this neglect was that the hedge—though badly overgrown—had become a haven for biodiversity. The volunteers were scathing in their criticism of the people of Bollington, feeling that their work would be forgotten. I brought them a flask of coffee, and before they left, I promised to look after the stretch as best I could.

Twenty-five years later, that hedgerow contains a greater level of species diversity than any other in Bollington. For over a decade, I have told those who stop to chat that I would happily donate £200 to the conservation charity of their choice if they could find a better, more species-rich stretch of hedge in Bollington. To my sadness, no one has yet claimed it.

A stroll below White Nancy Part 3

Perhaps the greatest irony is that the hedge survived because the land owners had neither the need nor the inclination to manage it. Without the ability to easily bring in tractors, the hedge escaped the "savage hacking" that has reduced so many local hedgerows to virtual deserts—stripped of flowers for the insects, and berries for the birds and mammals.

A few years ago, embracing my role as the "Bollington Village Fool," I crafted nearly 100 bird boxes. Twenty-five of these went into my hedge, named after local children. They were part of a broader exhibition called “The Limits of Tolerance.” Tragically, every box placed in public parks and at the Town Hall disappeared within 24 hours.

My work has become more difficult since the cows were moved to make way for saplings planted by the Cheshire Wildlife Trust. While these trees will eventually create a beautiful woodland, we are now in a difficult transition. Without careful maintenance, the nettles, brambles, and weeds will take over before the trees have a chance to thrive.

While I believe the Wildlife Trust’s money is better spent on trees than on maintenance the community should be doing itself, I continue my work. As long as I am here, you will see patches of wildflowers alongside my art—the willow sculptures of the Green Man and Anansi the spider, or the scale model of Stonehenge that greeted the solstice this year.

                                                                    The Green Man

The Heart of the Hedge

It is humbling to realize that the 200-yard stretch I have tended for 25 years is potentially home to over 2,000 species. When I look at the hedge, I see a bustling city of over 1,500 types of insects, a nesting ground for dozens of bird species, and a highway for the hedgehogs and bats that call our Bollington countryside home.

These aren't just statistics; they are my neighbors. On my early morning walks, I bring bird seed to our regular stations, and it isn’t long before I see them waiting—the birds, and even the voles and mice, who seem to know exactly when I am coming. There is a profound, quiet trust in that moment. It is a world away from the ‘savage hacking’ that threatens to turn our local landscape into a biological desert. These small lives are the reason I have spent a quarter-century acting as a guardian of this space.

                                                      A stroll below White Nancy Part 4.

I am not going to pretend that I am not proud of what I have achieved, but that is of little consequence when you consider that the best that has been done, has been done by one old fool.

Of course, there are always things that could be done, and I suspect it would be relatively easy for the council to take control of the land given it's public access history. But, then they would have to care for it and I'm not sure they can afford or want to. 

The Fool’s Guide to Moderating:

The Fool’s Guide to Moderating: A Manifesto for a Better Bollington

This guide is intended for the stewards of the "Official Bollington" Facebook group. It is written in six parts to help transform the group from a space of conflict and clutter into a true village square that serves every resident.

Part I: The Foundations of Leadership

1. The Principle of Radical Neutrality A moderator is like a referee. You are there to ensure the community plays by the rules, not to decide who wins. If you take sides, you lose the trust of the village. Speak for the group, not for your personal friends. The best moderators work quietly, ensuring the community runs smoothly without making themselves the story.

2. The Architecture of Rules Rules exist to keep the community safe, not to punish people you dislike. Keep your rules short and clear. When you enforce rules differently for different people, you create unfairness and destroy trust. Always explain why a rule exists so members know you are protecting the group, not just exercising power.

Part II: Navigating the Human Element

3. Managing the Conflict Cycle Conflicts follow a predictable path: they start small, get loud, and eventually settle. If you jump in too quickly, you often make the fire bigger. Let people talk things out if there is no danger. If a thread turns toxic, do not leave a final, denigratory comment as the "last word" before shutting it down; this is an abuse of power that denies the other party their dignity.

4. The Right of Reply and Fair Sanctions

• The Right of Reply: No one should be silenced without the chance to respond. If a moderator makes a public statement or accusation about a member, that member must be granted a fair right of reply.

• Ban/Block Policy: Never ban or block a member without giving them a formal opportunity to have their say. Exclusion should be a last resort, not a first response.

• The Path to Redemption: Every transgression should have a path to restoration. Instead of permanent exile, create a structured way back for those who have transgressed, allowing them to learn and re-join the community.

• Sanctions and the "Naughty Step": If sanctions are necessary, they must be transparent and time-bound. Putting someone on a "naughty step" should be a corrective, private measure, not an exercise in public humiliation.

5. Moderating with Mindfulness Being an admin is exhausting. To protect your well-being:

• Step Back and Take a Sabbatical: If the drama feels all-consuming, take a planned break.

• Invite Guest Moderators: You do not have to carry the burden alone. Fresh eyes often see solutions that tired eyes miss.

• Mind Your Personal Impact: Your actions affect your real-life family. If the group causes you or them distress, it is time to log off.

Part III: The Administrative Overhaul

6. Reclaiming the Village Square The health of the group is measured by the quality of its conversations, not the volume of its posts.

• Restrict the Adverts: Have the courage to limit commercial promotion to one day per week. Favoritism kills credibility.

• The Quality Control: Have the guts to tell advertisers if their content is damaging their own brand—for example, if a pub posts a picture of a beer garden where no one would want to sit. If the advert is poorly presented, it makes the group look like an uncurated dumping ground. People are fed up with scrolling through endless, repetitive ads to find something of actual interest.

• Curate, Don’t Repeat: Perpetual questions like "Does anyone know a plumber?" drive members away. Instead, create a pinned "Services" document or a searchable Wiki.

• Demand Clarity and Substantiation: Do not let members hide behind vague accusations. If someone makes a claim, require them to explain themselves clearly.

• The Mirror of the Community: Every admin team must include a "Mirror"—a moderator whose specific role is to provide alternative viewpoints and act as a bridge for dissenting voices. The ideal candidate for this role is someone already active in the community who has a track record of polite, positive engagement, the courage to be accountable for their own words, and the wisdom to challenge the status quo without seeking to destroy it.

A Final Word from the Fool: A village is not a collection of rules; it is a collection of people. If Official Bollington stops being a space where the "Official" voice acts like the loudest bully or the most persistent salesman, it will finally serve the village. The Fool’s work is done when the village stops looking at the moderator and starts looking at each other.

The Fool’s Guide to Moderating: A Manifesto for a Better 'Official Bollington' FB group.

 

The Fool’s Guide to Moderating: A Manifesto for a Better Bollington

This guide is intended for the owner and moderators of the "Official Bollington" Facebook group. It is written in six parts to help transform the group from a space of conflict and clutter into a true village square that serves every resident.

Part I: The Foundations of Leadership

1. The Principle of Radical Neutrality A moderator is like a referee. You are there to ensure the community plays by the rules, not to decide who wins. If you take sides, you lose the trust of the village. Speak for the group, not for your personal friends. The best moderators work quietly, ensuring the community runs smoothly without making themselves the story.

2. The Architecture of Rules Rules exist to keep the community safe, not to punish people you dislike. Keep your rules short and clear. When you enforce rules differently for different people, you create unfairness and destroy trust. Always explain why a rule exists so members know you are protecting the group, not just exercising power.

Part II: Navigating the Human Element

3. Managing the Conflict Cycle Conflicts follow a predictable path: they start small, get loud, and eventually settle. If you jump in too quickly, you often make the fire bigger. Let people talk things out if there is no danger. If a thread turns toxic, do not leave a final, denigratory comment as the "last word" before shutting it down; this is an abuse of power that denies the other party their dignity.

4. The Right of Reply and Fair Sanctions

• The Right of Reply: No one should be silenced without the chance to respond. If a moderator makes a public statement or accusation about a member, that member must be granted a fair right of reply.

• Ban/Block Policy: Never ban or block a member without giving them a formal opportunity to have their say. Exclusion should be a last resort, not a first response.

• The Path to Redemption: Every transgression should have a path to restoration. Instead of permanent exile, create a structured way back for those who have transgressed, allowing them to learn and re-join the community.

• Sanctions and the "Naughty Step": If sanctions are necessary, they must be transparent and time-bound. Putting someone on a "naughty step" should be a corrective, private measure, not an exercise in public humiliation.

5. Moderating with Mindfulness Being an admin is exhausting. To protect your well-being:

• Step Back and Take a Sabbatical: If the drama feels all-consuming, take a planned break.

• Invite Guest Moderators: You do not have to carry the burden alone. Fresh eyes often see solutions that tired eyes miss.

• Mind Your Personal Impact: Your actions affect your real-life family. If the group causes you or them distress, it is time to log off.

Part III: The Administrative Overhaul

6. Reclaiming the Village Square The health of the group is measured by the quality of its conversations, not the volume of its posts.

• Restrict the Adverts: Have the courage to limit commercial promotion to one day per week. Favoritism kills credibility.

• The Quality Control: Have the guts to tell advertisers if their content is damaging their own brand—for example, if a pub posts a picture of a beer garden where no one would want to sit. If the advert is poorly presented, it makes the group look like an uncurated dumping ground. People are fed up with scrolling through endless, repetitive ads to find something of actual interest.

• Curate, Don’t Repeat: Perpetual questions like "Does anyone know a plumber?" drive members away. Instead, create a pinned "Services" document or a searchable Wiki.

• Demand Clarity and Substantiation: Do not let members hide behind vague accusations. If someone makes a claim, require them to explain themselves clearly.

• The Mirror of the Community: Every admin team must include a "Mirror"—a moderator whose specific role is to provide alternative viewpoints and act as a bridge for dissenting voices. The ideal candidate for this role is someone already active in the community who has a track record of polite, positive engagement, the courage to be accountable for their own words, and the wisdom to challenge the status quo without seeking to destroy it.

A Final Word from the Fool: A village is not a collection of rules; it is a collection of people. If Official Bollington stops being a space where the "Official" voice acts like the loudest bully or the most persistent salesman, it will finally serve the village. The Fool’s work is done when the village stops looking at the moderator and starts looking at each other.

The Village Fool: A History of Institutionalised Dissent (2022–2023)

HTML

The Village Fool: A History of Institutionalised Dissent (2022–2023)

This post serves as a formal introduction to the origins and operational history of "The Village Fool" project in Bollington. It is intended for those seeking to understand the nature of the project’s mission, its methods, and the institutional and digital resistance it encountered during its formative years.

The Institutional Framework

The project is grounded in a rigorous constitutional framework designed to ensure longevity and clarity of purpose. Unlike informal protest groups, the office is defined by:

• Job Description: An established mandate to serve as an independent, diagnostic tool for local civic life.
• Code of Conduct: A strict adherence to a charter that mandates the pricking of four bubbles—in order of priority: vanity, hypocrisy, pomposity, and hubris.
• Fool's Advisory Group: An oversight body that provides strategic guidance, ensuring the office remains faithful to its charter and maintains its operational standards.
• Succession Planning: A formalised process for replacing the incumbent, ensuring the institution—and its function as a check on power—outlives the individual holder of the office.

Methodology: The Performance of Presence

The project utilises a highly disciplined interventionist methodology to maintain civic scrutiny:

• Visual and Audible Diagnostics: Through the use of 17th-century attire, a marotte, and bells, the project creates a jarring, historical contrast to modern bureaucratic processes. This presence is a diagnostic tool used to highlight the absurdity of institutional self-importance.
• The "Un-fightable" Stance: By actively welcoming criticism and employing strategic self-deprecation, the Fool creates a tactical environment where standard institutional defensive measures—such as demonisation or dismissal—are rendered ineffective.
• Interventionism: Rather than observing from a distance, the Fool conducts "interventions" at public events. These actions, often mischaracterised by authorities as "hijacking", are in fact the formal performance of the Fool’s duty to ensure public space remains inclusive and accountable.

The Ledger of Record

Central to the project is the maintenance of a public ledger via a social media platform. This ledger acts as a formal record of institutional behaviour, documenting both council actions and the systemic suppression of democratic inquiry by digital gatekeepers.

Conclusion

The first period of the Village Fool (2022–2023) demonstrated that a formal, disciplined institution can act as a necessary check on local authority. By documenting the truth, refusing to be silenced, and operating within a clear ethical and constitutional framework, the office has established a lasting model for civic accountability.

---

Note on Transparency and Authorship: This history was compiled in collaboration with the current holder of the office of the Village Fool. It is synthesised directly from the primary evidence contained within the project's public Facebook ledger.