Countryman's Diary; Delicious in pies, puds or jam

One part of old folklore said the devil spits on brambles from tomorrow onwards while another said he puts his foot upon them, but the message is quite clear - as from tomorrow, you might not expect brambles to be in peak condition.

On the other hand, it might be worth a quick excursion to your nearest briar patch!

This deadline is nothing to do with the devil, of course, it's simply that most brambles may already be past their sell-by date but in addition to their natural ageing process, there is a little creature which does spit on them. This is the flesh-fly which dribbles its saliva on brambles around this time to make them soft and unpleasant. They soften the fruit so they can suck up the lovely juices - a good reason for checking the fruit you collect from the hedgerow harvest around this time.

Most areas appear to have enjoyed a good crop this year. Some of the bushes have been heavily laden with large, juicy samples but as there are some 2,000 different species of bramble, they may differ considerably from area to area, or even from field to field. As a fruit which is literally there for the picking - along with a few prickly experiences en route - the bramble is probably unrivalled for its popularity, and for the variety of delicious recipes in which it features.

Apples and brambles are a wonderful combination in pies, although a bramble pie with no other ingredient is also scrumptious. Summer pudding is another delightful dish which is made more tasty by their inclusion, and bramble jam is a lovely means of perpetuating the taste long after the fresh fruit has gone. One recipe is to simply place fresh ripe brambles in a dish and steep them overnight in red wine.

However, the bramble is not the only hedgerow fruit which is traditionally enjoyed at Michaelmas. Another is the rose hip. In some areas of Yorkshire, ripe rose hips were collected at Michaelmas, and turned into a lovely thick sweet syrup-like drink which was supposedly healthy. For this reason, tomorrow became known as Hipping Day.

Those of us who remember life during the Second World War will recall the widespread collection of rose hips as part of the war effort. In 1941, the Ministry of Health urged the people to consider rose hips as a valuable source of vitamin C because the supply of citrus fruits from overseas had come virtually to a standstill. Schoolchildren were persuaded to collect rose hips for a reward of 3d per pound and these were eventually processed to produce rose hip syrup which was available either from shops or from welfare clinics. And a delightful drink it was too!

Country people were able to fashion other drinks, jam and meals from rose hips - it had been popular as a tart filling since 1730 for example - but the problem was the cleaning of those tiny fruits. I was told that one method was to slit them lengthways and then remove the pith and the seeds, leaving only the skin.

The skins were placed in a deep earthenware pot until they became soft enough to press through a sieve; without any cooling whatever, this produced a kind of puree which could then be mixed with its own weight of sugar, warmed until the sugar melted and then placed into pots for future use.

Another wild fruit to enjoy tonight - Michaelmas Eve - is the hazel nut, for tonight is Nut Crack Night. Unfortunately, there are no records to inform me of the purpose behind this curious custom, other than one reference which says: "It was a night of great rejoicing and mysterious rites."

So there we are - Michaelmas Eve is also Nut Crack Night, while Michaelmas Day is Hipping Day, the time for ending bramble expeditions and also a porch watching day. But that's another story.

Gateway clowns

Now that the holiday season is over for another year, I can launch into a Rhea Rant about tourists who park in farm gateways. This has long been a problem, especially when the car is left behind while the passengers go on a walkabout, but this year, in my part of Yorkshire at least, it seems have been an increasing practice.

Tourists are not just leaving the car there for a short time to enjoy a picnic - at least if they remain with their car, they can move it if the field owner wants access. As an example, near my home there is a holiday cottage which attracts townies and right opposite the cottage there is a gateway which leads into a field. That field invariably contains either cattle or sheep; this summer, it has held sheep which must remain there owing to foot-and-mouth disease restrictions.

There are foot-and-mouth disease warning notices on the gate, and disinfectant pads in the entrance. Along the road near the gate there is ample car parking space for those on holiday in the cottage and, to be fair, most of the visitors make use of it.

Some, however, insist on parking in the gateway in spite of the foot-and mouth notices, in spite of the disinfectant pads, and in spite of the field containing animals. Can they not anticipate that the owner of the sheep might want access, as indeed he does on frequent occasions, sometimes on foot, to check his stock, and sometimes with a vehicle to fetch them hay and nutrients? On more than one occasion, he has had to request the townies to remove their vehicles and, in my view, he had shown commendable patience and politeness in dealing with them.

These are not isolated incidents. In recent trips around the dales and moors I have observed people picnicking in farm gateways and even in the fields, I've seen folks exercising dogs in fields and on one occasion, the tourists' children were racing their mountain bikes around a hayfield. And all these were in areas with prominent signs reminding the visitors if the prevailing restrictions.

If such people cannot or will not read notices or use their brains, how does one educate such clowns, I wonder?

Two surprises

A flying visit to Appleton Wiske some five or six miles north of Northallerton revealed a delightful village with two surprises in its long history. The first lies within the church - it contains a memorial bearing the legend: "Mrs George Roleby, churchwarden, 1687".

I am not sure how many women fulfilled the role of churchwarden, although I believe women church-officers occurred several times in Derbyshire during the 17th and 18th centuries. For this reason, Mrs Rokeby is somewhat unusual, if only in Yorkshire.

The second point of interest is that the village was possibly the birthplace of Thomas Rymer, whose name may not be known to many, although some accounts say he was born at Yafforth in 1641. Thomas attended the free school at Northallerton, and then Sidney Sussex college, Cambridge, before heading for London to work as a lawyer at Grays Inn.

He wrote several critical essays, but his Short View of Tragedy, published in 1693, in which he attacked Shakespeare, earned him some ridicule. However, in 1692, he had been appointed Historiographer Royal upon which he devoted himself to collecting and copying old documents such as treaties and covenants relating to transactions between England and foreign countries. It took him more than 20 years to complete his research, after which he published his findings in 20 volumes, some being published after his death.

This collection was known as The Foedera, a classic work which was to prove invaluable to scholars and researchers who followed him. It was a labour of love, however, for his mammoth work brought him neither money nor fame, but it did bring him great satisfaction. Thomas Rymer died in 1713 and was buried at the church of St Clement Dane in the Strand, London, forgotten by most