CLIFF TUNSTALL was delighted when a sycamore tree was swept down the Tees in a flood and landed on a riverbank close to his home — for it was just what he needed to start making violins.

He sawed off part of a branch and began the long, slow process of creating his first musical instrument.

It was the start of a hobby which has kept him busy in retirement and won him praise from experts.

He handled timber for years while working for various firms constructing sheds, making school furniture and manufacturing boats.

He also built the swish bungalow he lives in at Startforth with his wife, Janet (who used to be a ward sister at Richardson Hospital).

But it takes an advanced level of skill to turn a rough chunk of tree into a stylish instrument that produces sweet music. He was thinking of making a fiddle when, by a stroke of luck, the tree washed up at his feet.

Sycamore, which is hard, is the main component in these instruments along with a smaller amount of pine, which is soft, plus some ebony and rosewood.

“It came at the right time to get me started,” said Mr Tunstall.

He read all the books he could find on violins and their manufacture before making his first attempt.

He has now made eight violins, four violas and three cellos. Janet’s cousin, Linda Wilson, who plays viola in Hull Philharmonic Orchestra, has tested them all and given her approval.

Two of his violins are now in use at the famous Chetham’s School of Music, in Manchester, and one of his cellos is owned and played by a London professor. Other instruments have been given to promising young musicians.

The Northern Echo:
St Andrew’s Church, Bolam

“I make them purely for pleasure and not to make money,” he said. “It takes a long time to cut and shape each piece of wood, using tiny planes, before piecing them together.

It gives a sense of great satisfaction when a fine instrument is completed.”

The final task is applying up to eight coats of varnish, which has to be done in warm weather.

He doesn’t like putting a cash value on his instruments, but others like them go for impressive sums in some shops.

Last year, he visited an exhibition in the Ashmolean Museum, in Oxford, to see 23 instruments by the greatest maker of all, Stradivarius, who made his final one when he was aged 91.

“I spent hours gazing at them from all angles and learnt a lot,” said the master’s modern admirer. “It is plain to see why they are worth millions.”

Jacob Readshaw, of Middleton, made some much-admired fiddles, as well as furniture and church fittings over a century ago.

John Askew (1834-95), of Stanhope, was possibly the most skilful and widely recognised violin-maker in the dales as his instruments gained national attention and were changing hands for high prices long after his death.

But it is likely that those created by Cliff Tunstall, of Startforth, thanks to the tree that was swept down the Tees, will still be played many decades from now, both individually and in orchestras.

A FLIGHT in a hot-air balloon thrilled the Reverend Crawford Bowen so much in 1877 that he longed for another chance to get back into the sky.

When he heard that a balloonist was coming to Barnard Castle to give a demonstration three years later, he hurried there and, at the age of 45, managed to get himself another trip.

He hoped it would carry him over the village of Bolam, where he was vicar, so that he could look down on his own church, St Andrew’s, and other landmarks, such as the Shoulder of Mutton, where James Ormston was landlord.

He wanted to be able to wave down to some of the village’s 117 residents, including his wife, Hannah, and their five children.

They would have loved to see him floating high in the sky. He knew they would be thrilled to witness him involved in this mind-boggling form of travel.

The balloon was piloted by one of the daredevil pioneers of this exciting new sport, Emanuel Jackson, of Derby. He was one of the country’s few professional aeronauts and a national hero.

The adventurous fellow was killed less than three years later when a strong wind blew him the wrong way and he crashed into a tall chimney before plunging to the ground.

But the vicar had no thoughts about danger as he got ready to take off during a show weekend. He was excited as he climbed into the car, which he described as little larger than a good-sized wheelbarrow.

Crowds watched as the balloon was inflated and went up, up and away. But the wind was in the wrong direction to head for Bolam. They soared over the Tees and passed above Lartington and Cotherstone, where villagers ran from their homes for their first glimpse of a people-carrying aircraft.

The balloon circled round Romaldkirk before coming down gently in a field at Hunderthwaite.

The vicar enthused later that it was a wondrous experience.

He said it was like being raised by the spell of some mighty magician as they soared to 1,200ft.

“Every ascent you make only increases your longing to make another,” he declared.

Perhaps he became less keen when he heard of the pilot’s death.

Another member of the family, Frederick Jackson, had a narrow escape when his balloon crashed into a school bell tower. He managed to cling on until rescuers put up a ladder to reach him.

The Reverend Bowen told his flock all about his experience.

“It is impossible to convey to anyone who has never ascended in a balloon an adequate idea of the impressions which develop during a voyage,” he said.

T HERE were a surprising number of schools in Barnard Castle in the 1840s. Those listed in Pigot’s Directory ran into double figures, so some must have been small — possibly one room in a house with just a handful of pupils.

Jane and Mary Armstrong had one in Bridgegate, while Elizabeth Chirkell and Margaret Nicholson were also based in that street. Though listed separately, they may have been linked in one enterprise.

Robert Barnes taught in King Street, as did George Knox and Robert Hodgson.

William Bell was a teacher in Thorngate. James Henderson’s school was in Horsemarket and John Hopper had one in Market Place.

James Cook and Rebecca Cook had their place of learning in Church Yard.

The National Free School, also in Church Yard, was no doubt the biggest. Its master was Robert Croft and the mistress Jane Ollis.

Those giving lessons in Galgate were Jonathan Nicholson, who specialised in maths, and Elizabeth Ullathorne and Mary Pearson, who took in lady boarders.

A boarding school for gentlemen was run by Francis Clark in High Startforth.

Schools on The Bank were run by John White and Thomas Whitmore. Charlotte Monkhouse’s school was in Newgate.

There were many reports in that era about schools being set up and badly run by unqualified people in some parts of the country, so the standard set in this variety of establishments must be open to question.

F ARMER Charles Kipling was probably considered well off before he died in May 1776.

Three men were given the task of setting out the worth of his assets. William Kipling, John Bousfield and Henry Penrith checked on all his wordly goods at his holding at Briar Dykes, Baldersdale, to find the correct sum.

Their list put his clothes and purse of money at £5.

Eight cows and five calves came to £56, with a steer at £3, six young beasts at £13 10 shillings and two mares at £8.

A galloway pony and foal were valued at £2. Twenty ewes and lambs were worth £6 and two geld ewes were £1 10 shillings.

Twenty one-year-old sheep were put at £3. His husbandry gear was valued at £6 and his household furniture at a similar amount.

All this added up to £110.

He was owed £200, but owed other folk £100, so his net worth was given as £210.

It doesn’t seem much considering all his stock, but could have looked like a reasonable sum for a farmer to leave in that era.