The Helm Wind
It has swept horses to their deaths, flattened barns and spooked walkers with its eerie banshee wail – Simon Ingram tells the tale of a Cumbrian wind so infamous, it even has its own name
Wind is, you’d think, a rather geographically encompassing thing. So to have a particularly ferocious one inhabiting a specific locality – and noticeable enough to have its own name – is quite a thing. Britain has only one.
A few more names, to get acquainted; firstly, the place it is local to. Cross Fell, a scraped summit on the less cuddly side of Cumbria, is named either because of its aggressive conditions – as in, this is a 'cross' fell – or because a venerable saint erected a cross atop to banish demons from what was then known as Fiend’s Fell. Neither likelihood intimates a particularly cheerful venue. And the wind itself: the Helm. It’s so called because its visual hallmark – in addition to a sonic one like the wail of an express train – is a cloud that sits atop Cross Fell like a helmet, sometimes with another ‘bar’ that forms before it like a scythe.
This wind has flattened barns, turned sprouts blown from stalks into bullets and blustered sheep around yards like cotton wool. It’s killed a horse and allegedly a flattened a Norman battalion. John Ruskin described it dearly as one of ‘the plague winds of the world,’ and to this day, the Helm Wind remains erratic but present. Look our for the Helm cloud on Cross Fell – and if you’re wise or superstitious, flee.
Learn more in Simon Ingram’s new book Between the Sunset and the Sea, published by William Collins, £18.99
Simon Ingram is an author and journalist preoccupied with the high places of Britain. He is the editor of Trail, the UK's best-selling hillwalking magazine
Introducing Tux & Tabby
Nordic-inspired toys, umami treats and other considered accessories for the discerning feline
So, tell us a bit about Tux and Tabby. What's it all about?
We design beautifully styled, contemporary toys, accessories and treats for the modern cat and design-conscious owner. Our goal is for our products to become a feature of the room and a signature of the cat’s presence, rather than an unsightly embarrassment to be tidied up.
Working closely with local suppliers, we source the highest quality materials, such as wool from British rare breeds and natural pheasant feathers. We use these individual components to craft each item by hand which means that every toy and accessory is unique and always one of a kind.
Give us a taster of some of the things you sell.
We sell a range of considered products for the discerning feline, made for both life and play. Some favourites include a curated collection of toys and treats inspired by contemporary Nordic design to sympathise with the modern interior; a ball hand-felted from undyed rare-breed British wool and fletched with natural pheasant feathers; and Bonito flakes, paper-thin tuna fish treats with an intense umami flavour.
What's important to you?
Beauty, simplicity and uncompromising quality.
Our focus is on the interplay between cats, their owners and the home, so we aim to design elegantly simple products for felines that complement contemporary spaces.
We also stand strongly behind our ethos of small-batch craftsmanship. This allows us to ensure exacting standards are met every time a product leaves our studio.
If you were a cat for the day (or night!), where would be the first place you'd go?
Without a doubt, our first stop would be a gallery or museum. Probably the British Museum in London, or the Kiasma Contemporary Art Museum in Helsinki. We’d love to be able to prowl around at night when everyone else has gone home.
Anything else you want to tell us?
By focusing on the quality of craftsmanship and materials, we’re looking to redefine what has come to be viewed by many as the traditional model for cat products – generic, brightly coloured and mass produced toys and treats.
To this end, we’re hard at work and are in the process of developing some fantastic new products, which will launch soon.
Ernest readers receive 20% discount when placing an order with Tux & Tabby – just quote 'Ernest20' at the checkout.
This is a sponsored blog post, created in collaboration with Tux & Tabby. For more information on partnerships and joining our directory, please email advertise@ernestjournal.co.uk.
London's Pyramid for the dead
It was to be an epic construction dominating Victorian London's skyline – a mighty pyramidal necropolis designed to be the final resting place for up to five million people. Duncan Haskell unravels the history of a landmark that just might have been...
If you’ve ever found yourself wandering around the capital thinking: “I like London a lot but what it’s really missing is a giant pyramid filled with dead people”, then your wish was almost the command of Royal Academy trained architect Thomas Willson.
In 1829 he proposed a unique solution to London’s overcrowding of its inner-city cemeteries. Coming at the height of the capital’s love of Egyptiana, the answer was quite simple – the Metropolitan Sepulchre on Primrose Hill. Designed over 94-storeys high, towering above St Paul’s Cathedral, and covering 18 acres of land, this mausoleum would house 40,000 new bodies each year with a capacity for five million cadavers. There would also be chambers for the superintendent, sextons, clerk and a keeper. Anyone picnicking on Primrose Hill would be able to enjoy the splendid company of this labyrinth for the dead.
It was planned as an investment opportunity with backers acquiring stocks in the Pyramid General Cemetery Company. Catacombs could then be rented out at £50 per vault to make everyone a tidy profit. Unfortunately, the idea didn’t leave the drawing board and the question of London’s overpopulated graveyards was answered by the proliferation of garden cemeteries, such as Kensal Green and Highgate. It’s a great shame that this architectural enigma was never built, not least because having a colossal necropolis on the doorstep might have frightened off the Primrose Hill set.
Words by contributing editor Duncan Haskell
Back to the elements
It all started when Peter Charnaud was nine years old and his father brought home a tonne of wooden scraps for his son to build things with. A few collapsed tables later and he had very much caught the bug. Now as an adult, Peter works for the family business selling wood working machinery to customers all over the world. However, in his spare time he still build things out of his beloved material and there’s one thing he loves to build above all others…
“I was in Italy and I saw a very crude bike made out of wood. I’d never even thought about making something like that, but I said to myself: "I’m going to have a go at that when I get home." That was four years ago and I’ve been making them ever since. You’re never going to see two wooden bikes that are the same.
“The thing I really love about it is that you’re making something out of a material that was once growing. A bike is different to a piece of furniture. If I’m making a table or chair, it’s static; it just sits there on the floor, but a bicycle moves. They’re mobile and have a life of their own. It brings the wood back to life. My bikes were growing, they had their branches out in the wind and rain and I’ve now taken them back out into the elements.
“Certain woods are heavy and others are brittle, so by combining the two you get something that is tough but also lightweight. You have to consider the mechanical properties of each wood. You can take a piece of London plane and bend it into a u-shape over your knee and it won’t break. If you did that with a piece of cedar it would just snap, but cedar is incredibly light. So you can use cedar for the core of the bike and the London plane on the outside. You’ve then got something incredibly strong but also light. I’d like to get people making them themselves – it’s not that difficult.”