Derek Charles Goodwin.

173 Trevino Drive, Rushey Mead, Leicester. LE4-7TR.

The Flesh Eating Blackberry's of Gelsmoor..

Gelsmoor sounds like somewhere from a Bronte novel but alas it is a little hamlet o'er the far side of Coalville, just through the area known as Peggs Green in the Parish of Worthington. You travel down Zion Hill just off the Nottingham Road and before you know it you are in this ancient and barely changing area. I would guess apart from a few houses here and there the whole area has changed little for century's with the exception of the coming of the railway which passed through the area with no station (although I think there was a wharf for lime). I am also of the opinion that no engine ever pulled a train on the line, I am sure from the depths of passed down memories that I was taught the railway wagons were only ever pulled by horses, or as they say in the area “hosses”.

In 1972 my much loved sister Trudie Martine Rowlands died aged just eight, it was a very tough time, and as a little boy I was ushered off to Grandad and Grandmas at Aqueduct Cottage on the corner of Gelsmoor Road and Aqueduct Road. What a wonderful place it seemed to a little boy from the city, a thatched cottage set in about and acre of vegetable garden, surrounded by fields and countryside as far as the eye could see. As an adult and thinking about it life would not have been easy in the little cottage for my grandparents. Basic does not begin to describe it, however they were country folk from the old days! That being said I looked forward to school holidays and long weekends, there was adventure to be had. The tin bath, cooking veg on the coal fire (with a piece of wood in to remove the taste of smoke) and going to the toilet in a dustbin outside added to the sense of something aged and special.

Grandad was a retired miner, born and bred in Osgathorpe, 52 years in the pits from a young boy, he knew hard work and he worked his vegetable gardens hard at Aqueduct Cottage. As well as keeping himself and Grandma in fruit and veg he also kept us for the most part of the year. We would visit once a week and come home with all manner of food for the week, rabbits, eggs, potatoes, onions, salad, brussel sprouts and all manner of fruit and berries, enough for a family of seven.

The Bakers (my grandparents) never threw anything away, every jar and bottle was kept and used multiple times, when something was so worn out and utterly used up it either went on the compost heap or onto the coal fire. Things like eggshells were used as slug repellent, newspapers were soaked, squished and then dried hard into fire logs to supplement Grandads free coal from the NCB, waste was not an option and would not have been understood nor tolerated.

During my lovely times at the cottage I helped to make every kind of jam imaginable, pickled everything from cabbage to eggs. Made wines, apple sauce, “hoss” radish sauce, mint sauce and everything else you can imagine including blackberry vinegar……

I used to go out foraging with Grandad, we didn't call it that then, we just went out to get some stuff, we would walk the railway embankment at the back of the cottage, Grandad would be pulling things up, snipping bits off things. He would be telling me what was what and I would be tasting things, often spitting them out to his belly laughs as they tasted so bad. “Ahh ye’ll not forget that in turry now”.

Blackberry picking was done over several days, it still is now;  nothing gives me more pleasure than taking my niece Lucy Jayne Berry (yes Berry by name and nature) blackberry picking and relating to her what I was told, two stories worth a mention and are told hither now.

I asked Grandad why he did not grow grapes, he made all kinds of wines, but not with grapes and his answer was always “I never had a dead donkey” and he would brush off further questions. Later in life I learned that to grow great grapes the Romans when starting a new vine, would kill an old donkey bury it under the new vine and let the plant feed from the nutrients the earth released; feed off it for “Donkeys Years” and I am of the understanding this is where the saying comes from, “it is donkeys years old”. Is that what Grandad meant?

Now to the flesh eating blackberry bushes of Gelsmore (well, anywhere to be honest). I was taught that blackberry bushes are a meat eater, guess who told me that? Those thorns all point inwards to capture furry animals esp sheep. Iffen they were to repel they would point other ways, and the berries, its always the highest and ones deepest in the bush which are the juiciest, to entice you into the trap. I have read that sheep farmers lose a lot of sheep to black berry bushes to the point where sheep farmers dig them out right away.  Imagine peasants in heavy woollen clothing also being captured, I think the blackberry bushes are trapping sheep to eat them just like vines like to eat donkeys…….

The finest thing to make from blackberry's is BlackBerry vinegar, its great as a decongestant when drunk very hot with boiling water. It is a delicious and sharp refreshing drink when mixed with ice cold water on a hot day and it is ram packed with all manner of vitamins, minerals and is an anti oxidant. So here is a good old fashioned recipe.