Recently I was struck by an alternative ‘Independence Day’ (in this case also 4th July) that occurred here in England right after the coronation of Queen Victoria in 1838.

Much has been written about child labour during the Victorian period. By far the most dangerous occupations involved employment in the mines. Children worked twelve hour shifts in cramped darkness and comprised a quarter of the workforce. A working man’s income didn’t provide enough to support a family, and so girls and boys both scratched a pittance pushing carts through tiny tunnels or operating trap doors for ventilation. Sometimes this involved sitting alone in darkness for the entire shift. Due to lack of room and movement, many suffered spinal deformities and other developmental issues. Often the door operators were aged seven or less and emaciated by malnutrition, both from poverty and a need to keep them from falling asleep with fatal consequences for the other workers.

At Huskar Pit in the West Rising of Yorkshire, 100 children worked underground alongside 70 colliers. After five days of unpaid leave for the coronation, many families were eager to resume work that Wednesday morning. They’d already been underground around nine hours when a devastating thunderstorm struck the nearby village of Silkstone near Barnsley. At Huskar, 50 children were 300ft below when the deluge burst streams and extinguished the winder engine’s boiler. The steward instructed everyone to remain at the bottom, until they could be winched out in small groups. 40 of the children decided to make for Huskar Drift, where a sloping mine seam opened at a day hole in Nabs Wood (still visible). One of the most feared mine accidents involved firedamp explosions – or methane gas combustion. Of the 40 kids who made for the drift, two brothers, Isaac and Abraham Wright (aged 12 and 8) had lost their father, John, to such a tragedy the previous year. Fearing a thunderclap might be a firedamp explosion, they accompanied their companions through a ventilation door and began climbing the 15 metres to daylight. What they couldn’t have known was that a swollen stream above had overflowed. It poured into the day hole, pinning the children against the trap door through which they’d just passed. Some scrabbled to safety in a nearby slit, but 26 youngsters between the ages of 7 and 17 (11 girls and 15 boys) drowned together. That included both the aforementioned Wright brothers and the mine steward’s son.
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The bodies were removed to Throstle Hall Farm, and then transported by cart to homes across Silkstone, Dodworth and Thurgoland. Most households in those communities received one and sometimes more corpses, with siblings perishing together.
The children were buried in seven graves – 11 girls together in 3, and 15 boys in 4. A memorial listing the names and ages was erected in 1841 at All Saints churchyard in Silkstone. It stands to this day.

Such was the public outrage after news of the incident spread, it proved a major driver towards legislation that would eventually birth our modern British society. One in which anything resembling child labour or similar working conditions seems unthinkable. Those 26 innocent youngsters helped purchase ‘independence’ for generations of children to come, through paying the ultimate price. They never reached light and safety, but their legacy brought it to many who would come after.

I’m a great fan of folk musician and singer, Kate Rusby, who hails from a village near Silkstone. She recorded a song about the tragedy called ‘Halt the Wagons,’ sung from the perspective of one bereaved mother. Given my outline of events above, the lyrics will be self-explanatory.
I’ll include them below with a video of the song.

Stop now, halt the wagons
It's too much for me to bear
To see my baby sleeping
In the cart lying there
Oh, take me, Lord, and keep me
Please don't leave me here
For I cannot keep breathing
He was all I held dear
 
Oh, hush now, don't cry
As you hear my lullaby
Hush now, don't cry
As you hear my lullaby
 
From the Black Horse there was silence
As the storm raged up above
So desperate was the tempest
To steal the one I love
Oh, nature sick with vengeance
As we carve up her tongue
Tiny arms around each other
Her work here done
 
Oh, hush now, don't cry
As you hear my lullaby
Hush now, don't cry
As you hear my lullaby
 
Children are the future
And children are a gift
But these are children of the darkness
With a twelve-hour shift
So take him, Lord, be gentle
With his tired, weary bones
Now I'm a mother of the darkness
For he'll never come home
 
Oh, we do not mine for riches
And we do not mine from love
But merely to keep the food on
Our tables above
So I'll dry up my tears now
Keep his soul in my heart ...
And call up the wagons
So the next shift can start
 
Oh, hush now, don't cry
As you hear my lullaby
Hush now, don't cry
As you hear my lullaby
 
Please hear my lullaby
Hear my lullaby
Hear my lullaby
Hear my lullaby
Hear my lullaby

The last year has been a bit sparse in terms of this blog.  It was only the closure of my old school that prompted an article and its associated video to be produced.  The kind and very moving feedback I have received from that in terms of blog comments and personal messages, has been incredibly touching.
An old classmate, in floods of tears after watching the video, initiated a series of wonderful e-mails that added significant value to the time invested in producing the film.
In our ongoing discussion, she mentioned how much I appeared to have achieved in my life since school.  While that is certainly true (I’ve done a few unusual things), I wrote back and informed her that by the world’s yardstick, I had achieved virtually nothing that a man my age was expected to do, be or have.
Her response was beautiful.  It got me to thinking about my observations over the last year when interacting with people, of a former relationship, and an old song.

‘I am very moved by the way you write and the thoughts you share John, clearly you have great insight to life and the world and a precious talent for being able to communicate that.  
Yes, it is so strange - getting older is not really what I had anticipated...and life takes such unexpected turns along the way....
Does it matter if we take a route around those expected, 'normal' milestones? If it makes us sad or lonely I suppose it does, but then I guess one arrives at much bigger questions and thoughts about the purpose of life, love and learning....
....there's a conversation to be had there soon I'm sure!!’
 
A quality friend, and no mistake.
 
Regular readers will have noticed me mention HSP’s on a number of occasions.  I have recently started a dedicated ‘HSP Zone’ on this site for HSP readers, or those interested in the genetically inherited trait.  In simple terms, I am one of 15-20% of the population born with a short-short genetic variation in my serotonin transporter gene at chromosome 17.  This causes the development of a nervous system that takes in and deeply processes a vast amount of sensory input; many times that of an average person.
In practical terms, it gives an almost spooky ability to read and know things about people and situations.  The drawback is that when one processes so much input, one can easily become overwhelmed and exhausted.  It’s not a defect or syndrome (1.4 billion people are HSP), and the trait is found as a survival mechanism in all higher animals at about the same proportion.  Having creatures on the periphery who observe, reflect, and pause before entering a new or potentially disastrous situation is beneficial to the entire group.
While often confused with introversion (30% of HSP’s are extraverts), in my case I am also an introvert.  Or, to put it in accurate Myers-Briggs MBTI terms, I’m actually INFJ (Introverted, INtuitive, Feeling, Judging).  This places me firmly in another minority, as only 1% of the world’s population are INFJ.
 
Perhaps I shouldn’t be surprised that my life has been somewhat different.  In a culture not geared socially, relationally or professionally toward those traits, the difficulty is not just with fitting-in, but also attempting to maintain basic health and well-being.
Some years ago I suffered horrendous burnout from work exhaustion, through trying to shoehorn myself into career and lifestyle situations my physiology was never designed to function in.
I very nearly took another stroll along ‘Breakdown Road’ in the afore-mentioned relationship.
 
That brings me very nicely to the title of this post.
‘A Winter’s Tale’ was a successful hit for David Essex in the 1980’s, and penned by one of our greatest songwriters, Mike Batt.  It’s really about a man reflecting at Christmastime on a lost relationship that was never going to work out.  However, like most of Mike’s songs, there is a whole lot more going on in the lyrics.
 
My own ‘Winter’s Tale’ began late one Autumn, as the mistletoe was visible in the treetops.  Contrary to the flow of the seasons, it was a relationship in first blossom during winter, withered as new life grew in the spring, and was dead by late summer.  Yet, just like the song, it was absolutely ‘a love that could never be.’
I have only myself to blame for ignoring the warning signs and pressing forwards.  First, there were the observations of those on the outside.  The fact I was with someone whose attitude towards others, lack of depth and empathy meant we would never have been friends in normal life, was another.  Then came my own internal warnings.  But, like many people wanting to believe in love, I carried on regardless.  This just goes to show that having high sensitivity doesn’t necessarily make one less prone to mistakes.  It’s a great gift as well as a burden, but failing to heed it can be incredibly detrimental.
 
I have read much about Grandiose Narcissists since that relationship ended, and even helped counsel others enmeshed with such people.  One constant facet you will always find, is that nothing you do is ever good enough for them.  It’s one way they maintain superiority and control.
For an HSP with limited energy, it will perhaps come as no surprise that I quickly wore myself out attempting to please the unpleasable.  When exhaustion hit and I had nothing left to give, emotional shut-down and physical sickness weren’t far behind.  I could no longer relate or respond to my partner emotionally, intimately or socially.  A spent force.
Mercifully, she ended things and moved onto her next ‘life accessory’ boyfriend.  The very best of luck to them!
 
When I was young, a wise colleague once told me that being in a relationship with the wrong person, is the loneliest place of all.
On my adventures I have lived solo, thousands of miles from home in often difficult and sometimes dangerous situations.  As an HSP and Introvert I need a lot of time by myself to process and recover energy from social interactions.  Yet, I can honestly say that being in a relationship with someone I did actually care very deeply for but couldn’t relate to, was the first time in my life I had ever suffered from loneliness.
 
This made me ponder the concept of isolation, which is at supposedly epidemic levels in modern society.
 
It’s a curious thing that in a world so connected and ‘always on,’ people should suffer the negative effects of isolation on such a widespread scale.
I have no interest in playing the victim card for being born a bit different from the majority.  I only explain it here, as people who want to understand find it useful in relating to me.  It is quite common for folk like myself to ‘hide’ from society though.
Funny when you consider that I actually love people a great deal.  Walk into a coffee shop, and it’s not unusual to find me engaging in lengthy conversation with complete strangers.  Listening to the thoughts and stories of others, is a tremendous joy while my limited social energy holds out.  A tea or coffee is only so large, so there’s always a polite excuse to vacate if necessary.
When it comes to opening up about myself however, I am usually very guarded.  Sometimes less so with strangers, because I’ll probably never see them again and they can only get so close to me while my cappuccino lasts.  Letting folk ‘in’ is not something that happens often, although I treasure the few very close friendships I am blessed with.
 
In listening over the last year, I have noticed an increasing tendency for people to feel like they have to ‘explain’ themselves to me.  As if they are somehow not enough.
Generally I avoid social media, and only use it for professional activities.  So much of it is fake, vanity and filled with facades people want to present to the world.  Small wonder then, there is such a tide of inferiority from genuine people worried that their own lives just don’t measure up.
Glamour magazines, advertising and television have long been serious contributors to human low self-esteem.  Technology designed to unify and build a sense of community is (in many cases at least) having the opposite effect.
The fault is a human one of course, rather than technological.  For a number of years I was a contributor to various Facebook groups, which had a very positive impact on the misunderstood.  So, it’s not all bad news.
 
What would the world be like if we were all completely honest with one another, and didn’t give a fig about vapid, narrow, societal expectations?
I put it to you there would be a heck of a lot less depression, anxiety, phobias and other mental health problems.

How would the human race benefit, if some of those ‘in hiding’ actually felt comfortable enough to step forward and let their gifts and light shine, I wonder?

My hope for us all in 2018, is that we can enjoy lives free from false unworthiness and be honest both with ourselves and others.  I don’t ever want to sip my coffee while watching another human soul squirm, because they feel they don’t ‘make the grade.’  As far as I’m concerned, the only grade is the measure of how true they are to themselves.

However you and I are connected, the last lines of the second verse from ‘A Winter’s Tale’ are my wish for you at Christmastime and beyond:

‘Good luck, I wish you well
For all that wishes may be worth
I hope that love and strength
Are with you for the length of your time on Earth.’
 
I’ll leave you with a video of David Essex singing the song, and the full lyrics below it.
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Merry Christmas!

LYRICS:
‘A Winter's Tale’
 
The nights are colder now
Maybe I should close the door
And anyway the snow has covered all your footsteps
And I can follow you no more
The fire still burns at night
My memories are warm and clear
But everybody knows it's hard to be alone at this time of year
 
It was only a winter's tale
Just another winter's tale
And why should the world take notice
Of one more love that's failed?
A love that could never be
Though it meant a lot to you and me
On a world-wide scale we're just another winter's tale
 
While I stand alone
A bell is ringing far away
I wonder if you hear, I wonder if you're listening
I wonder where you are today
Good luck, I wish you well
For all that wishes may be worth
I hope that love and strength
Are with you for the length of your time on Earth
 
It was only a winter's tale
Just another winter's tale
And why should the world take notice
Of one more love that's failed?
It's a love that could never be
Though it meant a lot to you and me
On a world-wide scale we're just another winter's tale
 
It was only a winter's tale
Just another winter's tale
And why should the world take notice
Of one more love that's failed?
It's a love that could never be
Though it meant a lot to you and me
On a world-wide scale we're just another winter's tale

On Saturday 25th November 2017, I made a familiar journey through country lanes I know well, to a quiet little valley with a very special place in my heart.
For six years (1983 – 1989) it was the route taken by our school bus, to what was then known as ‘Perry Court – Rudolf Steiner School.’  In later years the name altered to ‘Canterbury Steiner School.’
The purpose of this particular journey?  To say a fond farewell.  For a variety of reasons beyond the scope of this post, attendance (at a place once known for its student waiting list) had dwindled to unsustainable levels.  Combined with other financial pressures, continuing to teach at the existing site proved no longer viable.

It was truly heart-breaking to see my old school in its last throes.  Many happy ghosts danced before my eyes, as I took one final stroll along the paths of yesterday.
As I write this, my former classmate, Beth May, is working with a committed group to launch ‘Canterbury New School’ at a site close by.  It is my fervent hope and prayer they will succeed, that Steiner education may not perish from the garden of England.  If you have a heart for such things or are a former pupil, I encourage you to take a look at their website and perhaps consider getting involved.

In ‘How to Know Higher Worlds: A Modern Path of Initiation,’ Steiner made one of his characteristically profound and highly quotable statements.  As a sensitive man, it is a sentence with which I wholeheartedly agree:
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‘Feelings are for the soul what food is for the body.’

In the spirit of that wonderful phrase, I will leave you with a simple video I put together.  It includes my own reflections on the closure, and what the place means to me.  Incorporated are some basic camcorder footage taken on the day, images from my own years there, plus a few other shots that can be found drifting around the Internet for the time being.

If you are watching on certain devices, it may not be viewable due to copyright restrictions with the music.  I used a mix of beloved musical motifs by inspired soundtrack composer, Randy Edelman.  Any standard laptop or desktop computer should not present a problem, but some mobile platforms may disallow it.  If an advert pops up, this is due to the copyright holder monetizing the video in exchange for allowing use of their musical property.  I am not making anything out of it, and posted the video simply as a blessing for anyone who wishes to enjoy such a memento.

With love now and always,

John.
 
“Our highest endeavour must be to develop free human beings who are able of themselves to impart purpose and direction to their lives.  The need for imagination, a sense of truth, and a feeling of responsibility – these three forces are the very nerve of education.”
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Rudolf Steiner.