The Storyteller.

Welcome to The Storyteller. 

 

My name is Tony Locke and I am The Storyteller.  So why not pull up a chair and sit awhile.

 

The Storyteller.

There’s turf on the fire

There’s tea in the pot

Sunday’s here again

It’s been a good week

And now is the time

To hear the tale’s again

So pull up a chair and sit awhile

The clock is striking three

Tune in to WRFM

And join the Séanachai.

 

 

If you have any comments or request’s you can send them into wrfm.ie or post them on my facebook page.

 

 

Batty Bat and The Count from Sesame Street (Courtesy of YouTube).

This video accompanies the stories about Bats.

Music play list 20th October 2013.

Music Play List 20^th October 2013.

Bat Out of Hell by Meatloaf.

The Batty Bat by The Count from Sesame Street.

Old Lady by Sinead O’Connor from the album How about I be me (and you be you).

The Lonesome Boatman by The Fureys.

Fishermans Blues by The Waterboys.

Hey Good Looking What You Got Cooking.

 

The Bat (Part one).

As we are getting near to Halloween I thought I’d tell you a little about one of the creatures of the night and how it is viewed in folklore.

The Bat. Part One.

Feared as creatures of the night associated with death, sickness and witchcraft. Made famous as the familiars of vampires by the cinema.  Revulsion against them, however, is far from universal, and their quizzical faces have often inspired affection. There were no glass windows in the ancient world, and so people had little choice but to share their homes with bats.

They sleep hanging upside down by their feet. They live in shelters such as caves or hollow trees, but they also take advantage of human structures. Like most small animals that are drawn to human habitations, bats have often been identified in folk belief with the souls of the dead. As a result, in cultures that venerate ancestral spirits, bats are often considered sacred or beloved. When spirits are expected to pass on rather than return, bats appear as demons or, at best, souls unable to find peace. They are often thought of as the embodiment of evil and an indicator that a house is haunted or even worse.

Traditionally bats have been seen as witch familiars so whenever you see a lone bat it might be a witch in disguise. The devil and dragons are often depicted with bat like wings and in some cultures witch doctors wear bat amulets and make potions with parts of bat bodies. In the middle ages, anyone who had bats, known as witches birds living in their house were accused of being a witch and could have been burned at the stake.

In Central America the bat is seen as the god of death and bat motifs decorate burial urns and graves. Some North American tribal folklore suggests that the long eared bat, which has an arrow shaped growth on its nose, eats volcanic rock and spews out fire arrows. In China bats are a symbol of good luck, long life and happiness and at one time Chinese mothers would sew small jade buttons in the shape of a bat on the caps of their babies.  Some Australian Aboriginal tribal folklore regards the bat as a luck totem and in Turkey; some people still carry a bat bone as a love charm.

In Ancient Egypt physicians prescribed parts of the bat in the treatment of asthma, rheumatism, baldness, bad eyesight, toothache, and fever. They also believed that if you hung the body of a bat over the doorway of a home then it would prevent the entry of demons that carried these diseases.

In India, the skin of a large fruit eating bat (known as flying foxes) is still applied to cure lumbago and rheumatism.

Other superstitions about bats include,

If a bat flies into the kitchen and at once hangs on to the ceiling, it’s lucky, but if it circles around twice before settling down, then it’s seen as a sign of bad luck. If it circles around your head three times then get yourself measured for a box because it means death is coming visiting.  

If when trying to drive a bat out of the room, it fly’s against a light or candle and puts it out, then that is a very bad omen.

 

In Ireland if a bat was seen near the house it was taken as a sign of an impending death for a member of the household. However, we have bats in our roof space (they came in last winter). We are quite happy with them and they cause us no problems whatsoever. When bats are seen acting in a playful manner it is a sign that good weather is about to come, probably because there are more insects around on warm dry evenings so that means more food for the bats.

A common bat seen in and around hedgerows at dusk is the Pipistrelle Bat. Their Irish name is Laltog Fheascrach which means ‘bat of the evening’.

The Bat (Part two).

And now a few stories for those who are young at heart.

 

The Bat. Part Two.

These are a some stories that I’ve adapted from various traditions.  I tell them to children and they seem to enjoy them and all adults are just grown up children. You know you’re never too old for a story.

Why the Bat has no friends.

Once upon a time long, long ago, there was a big fight between the birds of the air and the animals with teeth that lived on the ground. The bat said to himself:

“I’ve got wings and I can fly so I think I’ll be on the bird’s side”

Early on in the fight the birds were losing so the bat crept away and hid under a log.  He stayed there until the fighting stopped for a while. 

All the creatures wanted to go home for lunch. As the animals of the ground were passing by the bats hiding place he slipped out and joined them.

“Hold on”, Shouted one of the animals looking closely at the bat,

“Aren’t you one of those who fought against us, what are you doing here, you should be with the birds”

“Me” said the bat, “Oh no not me, I’m one of you. I don’t belong to the bird people. Just look in my mouth. Have you ever seen a bird with teeth like mine? No, I’m one of you people, my teeth are like yours”

The animals of the ground looked at each other and nothing more was said and bat stayed with them.

After lunch the animals and the birds went back to fighting again but this time the birds won and the bat sneaked off and hid under his log again. Soon it was dinner time and everyone went home for something to eat. As the birds flew by the bat crawled out from under his log and slipped in among them.

“What are you doing here” said one of the birds, “You are one of the animals of the ground, and we saw you fighting for them”

“Who me” said the bat, “Oh no I’m one of you, I don’t belong to the animals of the ground. Look at me; have you ever seen one of the animals of the ground with wings like mine? No I’m one of you people, I’m like you”

 The birds looked at each other and nothing more was said and bat stayed with them.

This went on day after day and the bat always joined the winning side when the fighting stopped but soon the animals and the birds said,

 “This is silly, we shouldn’t be fighting all the time” so they decided to make friends. But what should they do about the bat?

The King of the animals and the King of the birds had a meeting to decide whether the bat belonged to the birds of the air or the animals of the ground.  They decided that because the bat had teeth he was an animal but he also had wings so he must be a bird. However, because he was naughty always joining the winning side he couldn’t be trusted so they said:

“Bat will fly like the birds but he will do so only at night when the animals are hunting, he will be alone and will never have any friends among those who fly or those who walk, and so it has been ever since.

 

But do you know why the bat fly’s at night?

Once upon a time, long, long ago when the world was first made it was never dark or cold. The sun shone bright and yellow all day and all the animals were lovely and warm and it was always light.

 At night time the moon shone bright and silvery, in fact it was nearly as bright as day time. 

One day Mother Nature asked the bat if he could be trusted to go on a mysterious journey for her. She wanted the bat to carry a basket up to the moon as he had wings to fly and strong teeth to hold onto the handle of the basket. Inside the basket was all the black darkness in the world, but of course the bat didn’t know this.

Bat flew off carrying the basket between his teeth but it soon became too heavy and he thought to himself:

“Oh dear this basket is very heavy and I’m tired and hungry”

So the bat flew down and went to find some food and have a little sleep (lazy thing).  As he hung upside down in a nearby tree two weasels came walking along and saw the basket.

They thought someone had lost it.

“That’s a large basket” said the first weasel, “I wonder if it’s full of nice things to eat?”

“Let’s open it and have a look” said the other weasel.

Just as they were peeking under the lid the bat came back.

“Hey, what are you doing to my basket” shouted the bat

The weasels dropped the basket in shock, bat tried to catch it but it was too late, it hit the ground and the lid fell off. All the darkness escaped.

Ever since that time the bat sleeps during the day and gets plenty of rest so he is ready to fly when the sun goes to bed and the moon comes out. When night time comes and it gets dark you will see him rushing about everywhere. 

Do you know why?

Well, he is trying to catch all the pieces of black darkness to put them back in the basket so he can take them to the moon before Mother Nature finds out.

 

Another story that suggests why the bat only comes out at night.

Once upon a time there was a rat called Michael who had a friend called Brendan the bat. They always ate their meals together but the bat didn’t really like Michael the rat because he thought he was very noisy.

One day it was the bats turn to cook the meal so he decided to make some soup. When they were sat eating Michael the rat said,

“How do you make such lovely soup, it’s always so tasty?”

The bat replied, “I always boil myself in the water and my flesh is so sweet and juicy it always makes the soup taste fantastic”

He then offered to show the rat how it was done. He got a pot of warm water which he told the rat was boiling water, and in he jumped, after a few minutes the bat climbed out. Now the bat had already prepared a bowl of boiling hot soup which he brought to the rat, it tasted fantastic and the rat gobbled it all up.

The rat then said goodbye to his friend the bat and went home. When he got there he told his wife that he was going to make some sweet, tasty soup that would taste just as good as the bats as he had learned his secret. He told her to boil up a big pot of water which she did and when she wasn’t looking he jumped straight into the pot of boiling water and was dead within seconds.

As soon as the rats wife looked into the pot and saw the dead body of her husband she hit the roof. She went straight to the king of all the animals and angrily reported what the bat had done. The King straight away ordered the arrest of the bat and everyone rushed around trying to catch him. However, the bat had a feeling that he might get into trouble for tricking the rat so he went into hiding.  All day the animals and birds looked for the bat but they couldn’t find him. The bat decided that it would be much better for him if he changed his habits so he began to come out to feed only at night when it was dark so no one would see him. So that is why the bat flies at night and that is the story of the bat.

And now a few stories for those who are young at heart.

 

The Bat. Part Two.

These are a some stories that I’ve adapted from various traditions.  I tell them to children and they seem to enjoy them and all adults are just grown up children. You know you’re never too old for a story.

Why the Bat has no friends.

Once upon a time long, long ago, there was a big fight between the birds of the air and the animals with teeth that lived on the ground. The bat said to himself:

“I’ve got wings and I can fly so I think I’ll be on the bird’s side”

Early on in the fight the birds were losing so the bat crept away and hid under a log.  He stayed there until the fighting stopped for a while. 

All the creatures wanted to go home for lunch. As the animals of the ground were passing by the bats hiding place he slipped out and joined them.

“Hold on”, Shouted one of the animals looking closely at the bat,

“Aren’t you one of those who fought against us, what are you doing here, you should be with the birds”

“Me” said the bat, “Oh no not me, I’m one of you. I don’t belong to the bird people. Just look in my mouth. Have you ever seen a bird with teeth like mine? No, I’m one of you people, my teeth are like yours”

The animals of the ground looked at each other and nothing more was said and bat stayed with them.

After lunch the animals and the birds went back to fighting again but this time the birds won and the bat sneaked off and hid under his log again. Soon it was dinner time and everyone went home for something to eat. As the birds flew by the bat crawled out from under his log and slipped in among them.

“What are you doing here” said one of the birds, “You are one of the animals of the ground, and we saw you fighting for them”

“Who me” said the bat, “Oh no I’m one of you, I don’t belong to the animals of the ground. Look at me; have you ever seen one of the animals of the ground with wings like mine? No I’m one of you people, I’m like you”

 The birds looked at each other and nothing more was said and bat stayed with them.

This went on day after day and the bat always joined the winning side when the fighting stopped but soon the animals and the birds said,

 “This is silly, we shouldn’t be fighting all the time” so they decided to make friends. But what should they do about the bat?

The King of the animals and the King of the birds had a meeting to decide whether the bat belonged to the birds of the air or the animals of the ground.  They decided that because the bat had teeth he was an animal but he also had wings so he must be a bird. However, because he was naughty always joining the winning side he couldn’t be trusted so they said:

“Bat will fly like the birds but he will do so only at night when the animals are hunting, he will be alone and will never have any friends among those who fly or those who walk, and so it has been ever since.

 

But do you know why the bat fly’s at night?

Once upon a time, long, long ago when the world was first made it was never dark or cold. The sun shone bright and yellow all day and all the animals were lovely and warm and it was always light.

 At night time the moon shone bright and silvery, in fact it was nearly as bright as day time. 

One day Mother Nature asked the bat if he could be trusted to go on a mysterious journey for her. She wanted the bat to carry a basket up to the moon as he had wings to fly and strong teeth to hold onto the handle of the basket. Inside the basket was all the black darkness in the world, but of course the bat didn’t know this.

Bat flew off carrying the basket between his teeth but it soon became too heavy and he thought to himself:

“Oh dear this basket is very heavy and I’m tired and hungry”

So the bat flew down and went to find some food and have a little sleep (lazy thing).  As he hung upside down in a nearby tree two weasels came walking along and saw the basket.

They thought someone had lost it.

“That’s a large basket” said the first weasel, “I wonder if it’s full of nice things to eat?”

“Let’s open it and have a look” said the other weasel.

Just as they were peeking under the lid the bat came back.

“Hey, what are you doing to my basket” shouted the bat

The weasels dropped the basket in shock, bat tried to catch it but it was too late, it hit the ground and the lid fell off. All the darkness escaped.

Ever since that time the bat sleeps during the day and gets plenty of rest so he is ready to fly when the sun goes to bed and the moon comes out. When night time comes and it gets dark you will see him rushing about everywhere. 

Do you know why?

Well, he is trying to catch all the pieces of black darkness to put them back in the basket so he can take them to the moon before Mother Nature finds out.

 

Another story that suggests why the bat only comes out at night.

Once upon a time there was a rat called Michael who had a friend called Brendan the bat. They always ate their meals together but the bat didn’t really like Michael the rat because he thought he was very noisy.

One day it was the bats turn to cook the meal so he decided to make some soup. When they were sat eating Michael the rat said,

“How do you make such lovely soup, it’s always so tasty?”

The bat replied, “I always boil myself in the water and my flesh is so sweet and juicy it always makes the soup taste fantastic”

He then offered to show the rat how it was done. He got a pot of warm water which he told the rat was boiling water, and in he jumped, after a few minutes the bat climbed out. Now the bat had already prepared a bowl of boiling hot soup which he brought to the rat, it tasted fantastic and the rat gobbled it all up.

The rat then said goodbye to his friend the bat and went home. When he got there he told his wife that he was going to make some sweet, tasty soup that would taste just as good as the bats as he had learned his secret. He told her to boil up a big pot of water which she did and when she wasn’t looking he jumped straight into the pot of boiling water and was dead within seconds.

As soon as the rats wife looked into the pot and saw the dead body of her husband she hit the roof. She went straight to the king of all the animals and angrily reported what the bat had done. The King straight away ordered the arrest of the bat and everyone rushed around trying to catch him. However, the bat had a feeling that he might get into trouble for tricking the rat so he went into hiding.  All day the animals and birds looked for the bat but they couldn’t find him. The bat decided that it would be much better for him if he changed his habits so he began to come out to feed only at night when it was dark so no one would see him. So that is why the bat flies at night and that is the story of the bat.

An Old Ladies Poem.

I was over at McBrides the other day visiting someone and it brought to mind a poem that I read once. In actual fact I’ve read this poem a number of times because it’s very moving. Anyway I’ll recite it to you and let me know what you think. You can leave a comment on The Storyteller page at www.wrfm.ie or on my facebook page.

When an old lady died in the geriatric ward of a small hospital near Dundee, Scotland, it was felt that she had nothing left of any value. Later, when the nurses were going through her meagre possessions, they found an old notebook and inside there was a poem that the old woman had written. Its quality and content so impressed the staff that copies of the poem were made and distributed to every nurse in the hospital. One nurse took her copy to Ireland. It is simply called,

 

AN OLD LADY'S POEM.

What do you see, nurses, what do you see?
What are you thinking when you're looking at me?
A crabby old woman, not very wise,
Uncertain of habit, with faraway eyes?

Who dribbles her food and makes no reply

Who seems not to notice the things that you do,
And forever is losing a stocking or shoe....
Who, resisting or not, lets you do as you will,
with bathing and feeding, the long day to fill..

Then open your eyes, nurse; you're not looking at me.

I'll tell you who I am as I sit here so still,
as I do at your bidding, as I eat at your will.
I'm a small child of ten...with a father! And mother,
Brothers and sisters, who love one another.

A young girl of sixteen, with wings on her feet,
dreaming that soon now a lover she'll meet.
A bride soon at twenty--my heart gives a leap,
remembering the vows that I promised to keep.

At twenty-five now, I have young of my own,
who need me to guide and a secure happy home.
A woman of thirty, my young now grown fast,
bound to each other with ties that should last.

At forty, my young sons have grown and are gone,
but my man's beside me to see I don't mourn.
At fifty once more, babies play around my knee,
again we know children, my loved one and me.

Dark days are upon me, my husband is dead;
I look at the future, I shudder with dread.
For my young are all rearing young of their own
and I think of the years and the love that I've known.

I'm now an old woman....and nature is cruel;
its joke to make old age look like a fool.
The body, it crumbles, grace and vigour depart,
and there is now a stone where I once had a heart.

But inside this old carcass a young girl still dwells,
and now and again my battered heart swells.
I remember the joys, I remember the pain,
and I'm loving and living life over again.

I think of the years....all too few, gone too fast,
and accept the stark fact that nothing can last.
So open your eyes, nurses, open and see
...Not a crabby old woman; look closer...see ME!!

The Lighthouse Keeper.

The next story is about those lonely men of the past whose job it was to keep the light shining out to sea no matter what the weather. The following story concerns:

 

The Lighthouse Keeper.

Lighthouses are lonely places, places of desolation, solitude and danger.  Those who live or sometimes just exist within that environment are trapped by some of the harshest conditions on earth. 

Some lighthouse keepers were allowed to be accompanied by their wife and children, sometimes with tragic results as children were swept from the rocks by an unexpected wave, to join other lost souls drowned at sea. 

Some keepers were condemned to work with assistants they may not have liked or even grew to hate, for long periods of time.  Can you imagine being trapped in such circumstances, slowly driven mad, the waves crashing up onto the rocks, no access to the mainland for extended periods of time?  None of the modern conveniences that we have today and in cramped cold conditions often dark and damp is it any wonder that the spirit of the lighthouse keeper, their families and even those souls that were lost at sea remain behind to haunt the place that was responsible for their unhappiness. 

There are many stories that have been told over the years, of jealousy, tragedy and despair, of children drowned. Were they stories based on true events or were they just made up by lonely or bored keepers for their own amusement. We will never really know.

         One such story concerns a lighthouse perched high upon a desolate piece of rock off the west coast of Ireland.  It was almost impossible to get to the island during the long winter months and once there it became your prison until the boat from the mainland arrived in the spring.  The story concerns Fergal O’Malley who was found guilty of poaching by the local magistrate who was also the local landowner.  He was given the option of transportation for life or the job of Keeper of the Lighthouse where he would remain for the rest of his days.  O’Malley chose the latter stupidly believing that it couldn’t be as bad as people made it out to be and as he had recently married he could take the wife with him so he’d have a bit of company.

The following day O’Malley and his young wife were taken by boat to the island, they were allowed to take with them only what they could carry, together with the supplies provide by the landlord.  O’Malley knew his wife would feel lonely on the island so he brought with him a tin whistle for her to play a bit of a tune.  He was unable to read music but his wife was better educated and she was able to read music so he presented her with the whistle and a sheet of music that had upon it just the one tune.  She was delighted and having settled in and lit a fire they began to feel quite happy with themselves and she played her tin whistle much to O’Malley’s delight. 

The late summer turned into autumn and the nights grew longer, the weather began to turn and stormy nights kept them imprisoned within the stone walls of the Lighthouse.  O’Malley’s young wife played her tin whistle, over and over again, the same grinding tune slowly driving him insane even when he suggested to her that she played something different she continued to play the same tune over and over again.

Eventually he could take no more, reaching for the axe he used to chop wood for the fire he tore the whistle from her hands and smashed it to pieces.  She screamed in protest and turned upon him in desperation trying to wrench the whistle from him, in a rage he hit her with the axe, again and again to the tune he could hear in his head he brought the axe down upon her.  As his rage began to leave him he realised what he had done but by then it was too late, she lay upon the stone floor her eyes staring up at him as though accusing him in death.  He went up to the lighthouse platform and taking down one of the ropes that hung upon the wall he fashioned a noose, placing it around his neck he stepped over the edge and hung himself.  A couple of days passed and the people of the mainland noticed that the light had gone out and realising something was wrong they went to the local landlord, he ordered that on the first calm day a boat should be sent to the island to find out why O’Malley was failing to carry out his duties.  As they approached the island they saw his partly decomposed body swinging in the wind, inside they found his wife lay where he had killed her. 

The Lighthouse is no longer in use, it is now a bird sanctuary and tourists are taken over to the island by arrangement with tour guides on the mainland.  It is said that on quiet nights when the winds are silent if you listen carefully you can hear the sound of a tin whistle playing a soulful tune, or could it just be the sound of far off sea birds?  I’ll let you decide.

The Birth of The Harp.

Here is another story of a couple who lived by the sea and it’s called,

The Birth of the Harp.

Once upon a time long long ago there lived a man and a woman in a little cottage by the sea.

The man’s name was Séan and he was a farmer. His wife Mary was an angry woman who spent her life chastising him.

One day Séan returned from his work and sat down at the table. Mary came in from outside and seeing Séan she began to scold him.

"Why are you still at the table?" asked Mary impatiently.

" I’ve just sat down to my lunch five minutes ago. I've been in the fields all day!" replied Séan.

"Well, get back out to the fields. You still have work to do. Take your bread and cheese with you," grumbled Macha.

"Let me get a drink of milk first. It's hot outside," Séan said.

"Don't drink it all. It needs to last for a while."

Séan said, "Mary, will you never be satisfied?"

"How can I be satisfied when you sit in the house all day and do nothing?" grumbled Mary.

Séan grabbed his lunch and walked out of the house slamming the door behind him.

"She never stops complaining," muttered Séan. "I wish I could find just one thing that would make her happy."

A few days later, Mary and Séan were on the beach gathering seaweed. As usual, Mary was grumbling.

Suddenly she stopped.

"What is that sound?" she whispered.

They listened. it was the most haunting sound they had ever heard. Where was it coming from? Séan and Mary couldn’t figure it out.

They kept on walking, searching for the wonderful sound.

All they could see were the bones of a whale that had died on the beach. However, as they stood and looked at the skeleton, Séan noticed that the sound seemed to be coming from the bones. As the wind blew, the sound got louder. When the wind stopped blowing, the music stopped, too.

Séan said, "The wind is causing the music as it blows through the bones."

"It’s the most soothing sound I’ve ever heard," said Mary in a quiet, calm voice.

And Mary was calm and uncomplaining for the rest of the week!

Séan was surprised but pleased with Mary’s new behaviour. He began to think about it. He finally decided that it must be the music that had changed Mary.

"I must find a way to keep the music close to her. That way she will stay happy," said Séan to himself.

"I know what I will do," he said three days later. He went and cut down a large tree. He bought some catgut. He shaped the wood into the shape of the whale's rib bones. He made strings of the catgut and attached them to the wood. Then he painted and polished the wood. It was beautiful!

Séan brought the instrument into the house. He strummed the strings and waited. Mary came out from the back room. She had a lovely smile on her face.

"Oh, Séan," she whispered, "you have brought the music to me! It is so beautiful! You’ve made me so happy!"

She sat down and began to pluck at the strings. It was as if she was born knowing how to play. She played and played.

And Mary was happy from that day forward. Séan was even happier because she no longer complained.

Some say that is how the first harp came to be.  Of course there are other theories.

The Barnes Mystery.

I thought I’d tell you a true story that concerns an Irish woman in Victorian England, I found it to be quite interesting. It also has a loose connection to the great David Attenborough. The story is a little gruesome so you have been warned. It’s called,

 The Barnes Mystery.

A skull identified as that of a murder victim from sometime in the late 19^th century was unearthed by workmen in the backyard of naturalist David Attenborough’s south west London home. It has been suggested that it’s the skull of Julia Martha Thomas, age 55, who died in 1879. However, it’s the circumstances of her death rather than the discovery of her skull that is of interest to me as it concerns an Irish woman whose name was Kate Webster.

On the 13^th January 1879 Julia Martha Thomas of No. 2 Vine Cottages, Park Road, Richmond Hill.

The number thirteen has long been considered unlucky by some and for Mrs Thomas it certainly appeared so for it was on this day she would make a mistake that would ultimately cost her life.

She took into her employ a maid, but unknown to her this maid was a convicted thief, fraudster and all round nasty piece of work by the name of Kate Walker. An ex con just released and on the lookout for easy pickings. Unluckily for Mrs Thomas, Kate Walker had turned down a job because; as she said later “There weren’t anything worth nicking”

Now, at first, the two women got on rather well but this did not last for Kate Walker had no intention of working hard and her sloppiness annoyed Mrs Thomas. Walker was a heavy drinker and threatening, intimidating Mrs Thomas by her aggressive manner and on the 28^th February Mrs Thomas plucked up her courage and sacked her. Unfortunately Mrs Thomas was a kind old soul and Kate Walker preyed on this, she asked would she be allowed to stay on for a couple of days to give her some chance of finding other employment elsewhere. Sadly for Mrs Thomas, she agreed.

On the evening of Sunday the 2^nd of March 1879, Mrs Thomas went to church as usual but was seen to leave the service early

in an agitated state. This was to be the last time that Julia Martha Thomas was seen alive. The following Tuesday afternoon Kate Webster went to see some friends; she was seen wearing a very smart silk dress of some value, and carrying a heavy looking Gladstone bag. She mentioned to her friends that she had come into some property, her aunt, having died had left her a house complete with contents and she asked them if they had any contacts that could help with its disposal.  Her friends (called Porter), asked Kate if they could have a private talk as they considered her request and so Kate went for a walk, taking the Gladstone bag with her. After a time she returned but without the Gladstone bag and later that evening the Porter’s son, Robert, was to help Kate carry a heavy box down to Richmond Bridge, she explained to Robert that someone was meeting her there and taking the box from her but later on when questioned he was to say

”as I walked away I heard a loud splash as if something heavy had hit the water”

The following day, a coalman recovered the box from the Thames and thinking himself lucky imagine his horror when breaking it open he found bits of what was later identified as ‘parts of a female body’, apparently boiled. Unfortunately, the head was missing so it was impossible for the police of the time to take the case any further (Pre D.N.A.). It became known by both the police and the press as ‘The Barnes Mystery’.

Kate Webster was now walking around the streets of south west London wearing the late Mrs Thomas’s clothes and jewellery and was even calling herself “Mrs Thomas” and it was under this name that she persuaded a general dealer to buy the contents of No 2 Vine Cottages.

Now she had some money in her pocket she went on a cruise up the river, enjoying her new found wealth, unaware that the noose was beginning to tighten around her neck.

Remember Robert Porter, the young man who helped Kate Walker carry the box down to the bridge? Well he was also an avid reader of gruesome murder stories in the newspapers. He mentioned to his father Henry Porter, that the box described in the “Barnes Mystery” was the same box that he had helped Kate Webster with, the one he heard drop into the Thames. At the same time the general dealer that had bought the contents of No 2 Vine Cottages was looking through said contents and came across a dress that had inside one of the pockets a letter addressed to a Mr Menhennick, an acquaintance of the real Mrs Thomas. The dealer became suspicious and so he and Mr Porter paid Mr Menhennick a visit. After discussing the various coincidences they came to the conclusion that the body in the box may well be Mrs Thomas.

They went to the police and after explaining their suspicions the police came to the same conclusion, enough to convince them to carry out a search of No 2 Vine Cottages. They were to find an axe and a large copper tub that contained fatty acids that suggested Mrs Thomas had been battered to death, chopped into pieces and then boiled down, anything that was left went into the box and the Gladstone bag.

An arrest warrant was issued and before long Kate Webster was apprehended, taken to Richmond Police Station and charged with murder. Of course she denied it, she even went as far as accusing Henry Porter and the General Dealer (Mr John Church) of the crime but it carried no weight.

She was tried at the Old Bailey and on the 8^th July 1879. The police officer in charge of the case, Detective Inspector David Bolton outlined the events as he found them to the coroner, “Realizing she had injured her she proceeded to strangle her to stop her from screaming and getting her in trouble. Webster decided to do away with the body and used a razor to chop off the head. Having decapitated her she used a razor, a meat saw and a carving knife to cut the body up, the dismembered body was put into a copper laundry vessel and she proceeded to boil up the body parts of Thomas,” he said.

Kate Walker was found guilty of the murder of Julia Martha Thomas. She was hanged by William Marwood on the 29^th July 1879 at Wandsworth Prison; she was the only woman to ever hang there. It is reported that her last words were “Lord, have mercy upon me”

There is one last twist to the story, after the execution the Victorian commentator Mr Henry Mayhew met a boy who knew Kate Webster. A few days after she had murdered Mrs Thomas she had offered the boy and some of his friends a free meal with these words:

“Ere you lot, I’ve some lovely pig’s lard ‘ere, you kids can have it free of charge, don’t go saying that Kate Webster never gives you nothing.

He said she then gave them two big bowls of lard and hunks of bread.

“Eat it all up now me dears its awful good for you, and when you’ve finished lick the bowls and sell them, you’ll get a copper or two for them”.

 Now I’m not suggesting what was in the bowls but I’ll bet it was full of body.

More than a century after the murder the West London Coroner, Alison Thompson formally acknowledged the skull found as that of Julia Martha Thomas. Police were able to provide conclusive evidence proving that the skull was that off the victim. Julia Martha Thomas and the “Barnes Mystery” case can now be laid to rest.