History Shorts: snippets of local history

"Then I found a two faced stone On burial ground, God-eyed, sex-mouthed, its brain A watery wound." — 'January God', by Seamus Heaney. In an apparently ancient cemetery on an island in Lower Lough Erne, county Fermanagh is a historical curiosity. The two-sided Boa Island figure is an enigma, even whether it is pagan Iron Age or early Christian (Caldragh cemetery has been dated to 400-800 AD). It's not really a Janus figure either but two separate figures standing back to back. Is one side male and one side female, as many think? Writing in the Proceedings of the Royal Irish Academy in 1933, the Lady Dorothy Lowry-Corry described and published photographs of the carved stone, which she believed represented male effigies on both sides. In that she disagreed with George Du Noyer who had first officially recorded the figure in a sketch in 1841 (not very accurately, she said). In her photos, the stone is very noticeably askew and partially sunk in the ground. She also...

The Maritime Mile is a heritage trail alongside the River Lagan in Belfast, connecting key sites from the city’s seafaring and shipbuilding past with striking public art and storytelling, culminating in the Titanic Quarter, home to Titanic Belfast and a host of other historic attractions. Another eye-catching feature is the Glass of Thrones trail – a series of stained-glass panels celebrating the fantasy series filmed in nearby Titanic Studios. Here is the Stark Window, with its vivid imagery of direwolves, northern landscapes, tragedy and battle - a dramatic tribute and a popular photo stop. The Stark window with Titanic Belfast in the background Nearby on Donegall Quay, a public space opposite the Custom House blends historic and contemporary Belfast. A red buoy—once used in Belfast Lough— is repurposed here as public art, while the Salmon of Knowledge sculpture (better known as the Big Fish) stands where the hidden Farset River flows into the Lagan, telling the story of Belfas...

Today, just six species of sloth remain, split between two families: two-toed and three-toed. But in prehistoric times, sloths were far more diverse—and some were massive compared to the tree-dwellers we know now. If you’ve been to the Natural History Museum in London, you might have seen the striking replica skeleton* of Megatherium americanum , one of these ancient giants. New research from a team of scientists from the Americas sheds light on how these now-extinct sloths reached such impressive sizes—and why they eventually vanished. Bigger sloths, grounded lives Unlike modern sloths, which live exclusively in trees, the largest prehistoric species were ground-dwellers. Some were tall enough to pull leaves from treetops while standing upright. Megatherium , for example, lived in the grasslands of South America until about 10,000 years ago. Fossil footprints from Argentina suggest it walked on hind legs, using its tail for balance. The scientists analyzed ancient DNA and more th...

T he diaries of 17th century Oxford antiquarian Anthony Wood offer a fascinating glimpse into academic and social life in the university city, with a mixture of history, commentary and anecdotal material.  A new kind of feaver One particularly curious entry caught my eye: Memorandum, Friday, Aug 14 1657, Mrs Read of Ipston departed this life, who three weeks before her death was taken with a fit of vomitting and vomitted a live spider. Her name was Acton before she married. This summer rages a new kind of feaver, especially in the country villages. — Excerpt from The Life and Times of Anthony Wood, Antiquary of Oxford (1632–1695), Described by Himself, Vol. I (1632–1663), collected from his diaries and other papers by Andrew Clark, M.A., Fellow of Lincoln College, published 1891. Concern for illness is a common theme in 17th-century diaries but I will assume the note about a live spider is drawn from local hearsay as opposed to being a symptom of a "new kind of feaver". The I...

As a cycling fan, it was a bit of a thrill once to cycle down the dreaded Arenberg trench, a legendary cobbled segment of the Paris-Roubaix spring classic. That I was on a hired city bike with a front basket was only partly the reason why I mostly cycled on the much safer dirt track alongside the pavé... In this part of the Nord-Pas de Calais we are deep in coal-mining country. The Arenberg trench, Trouée d'Arenberg-Wallers (official name the Drève des Boules d’Hérin), is a 2.3km road that cuts straight through the Arenberg forest on the edge of a large mine. The segment was only introduced to the Paris-Roubaix race in 1968 but has become a permanent fixture - apart from one year when surface damage caused by the collapse of abandoned subterranean mining tunnels was finally deemed bad enough to warrant repair. It's been the site of notable crashes over the years and can make or break a rider's day very easily. I'm glad to report however that our hired bicycles were safe...

It sometimes doesn't feel real: I lived through an actual pandemic, what should be the stuff of history or fiction. I know I'm reflecting from a place of privilege even saying that. Five years ago today the British government announced lockdown restrictions as part of a "huge national effort" to stop the spread of the Covid-19 virus. Many vulnerable people had been effectively under lockdown before then. In the period that followed some didn't feel the need for restrictions or vaccinations.  Was it too late? Was it a step too far? Historians will look back and draw different conclusions. As a society we're still dealing with the aftermath of the virus, the restrictions, the conspiracy theories, the mental health issues, our approach to collective responsibility, the realities of hybrid working - positive for me and many others, not so much for some. We can say the pandemic deepened existing inequalities and exposed vulnerabilities in our health and social care...

A sign in the little village of Corfe Castle in Dorset proclaims that Edward the Martyr, King of Wessex, was treacherously stabbed by his stepmother Elfrida (also Ælfthryth or Alfrida) in AD 978. What evidence is there that the evil stepmother did it? Well, none of course! Edward's reign was short, lasting less than three years before his violent death. Byrhtferth, writing around 1000, is an almost contemporary source. He describes the murder as an act of treachery but does not name Ælfthryth as responsible:  One day towards evening the remarkable and elected king, seeking the consolations of brotherly love, arrived at the house where his beloved brother was living with the dowager queen, as we have said. The magnates and leading men went to meet him, as was only fitting; he [the younger son] remained inside with the dowager queen, his mother. Those magnates had agreed among themselves a wicked plot: they were possessed of so damnable an intention and so murky and diabolical a blin...