Norse Magic

Last week was all about preparing for my latest staged photoshoot - A Nordic Wild Elopement - designed to create content for social media and hopefully inspire my target audience to hire me for their wildly imaginative events.

I absorb Scandi dramas and novels like a sponge and at home, the conversation has very much been centred around our son Caleb's forthcoming educational college trip to Iceland.

With that in mind, I've spent the last few weeks assembling an A team of suppliers, one with a very obliging couple of friends who agreed to do the shoot.

Whilst we have some stunning scenery in the West Midlands, we don't have rugged mountain peaks on the doorstep.  But I try not to let mere details stop me.  I opted for one of our favourite haunts as the location; the picturesque hills and stunning views of The Sheepwalks which passes through the Enville Estate.  I think you can probably guess where it gets its name.  

I'd carried out a recce recently in an attempt to somehow channel a Scandi aesthetic through my photos and was pleased to note that the sheep were further up the hill and so wouldn't cause me any problems on the day.  The photos were also edited in suitably cool tones.

Naturally there was a last minute drama on the morning of the shoot when the original male model jilted his "bride".  Having picked up a wedding dress (on loan) earlier in the week, taken delivery of a couture, hand dyed silk flower crown and collected what felt like a fortune in flowers the day before, there was a frantic hour of head scratching and panicked texts to people in our contacts list.  Just when all hope had gone, Romana's friend Noel stepped in and saved the day.  It was back on.

We met in the car park of The Cat Inn (first mentioned in 1718, before becoming an Inn in 1799).  The car park as it is now, was detailed on the Tithe map of 1838, as a large pond.  Having made our introductions, we headed to the pub for a swift drink and no doubt a little Dutch courage for Romana and Noel.

Romana was already made up with the requisite outdoor glow by the talented Selina Bhatti Selina Bhatti - Make up Artist | Facebook, who I previously worked with on my Stranger Things shoot here...

...and who joined us on the day.  

Romana then proceeded to get changed in the back of Noel's van, where I helped to wrestle her gym and yoga honed body (Romana teaches yoga in nearby Shropshire Yogalates with Marni | Shrewsbury | Facebook ) into a wedding dress bodice that was a little too small. A model's life!

Finishing touches were added - the flower crown, complete with Icelandic poppies and a vintage coat (mine) and we set off on our bracing walk.  Just a group of friends taking a walk.  Nothing to see here!

Considering Romana and Noel have never modelled before and are just friends, they took to it like ducks to water.  I had created a storyboard in my head, which helped with direction.  The weather played ball too and there was just the right amount of cloud coverage.

We paused by Temple Lake for a few shots, which, whilst not particularly evoking Icelandic terrain, was too pretty to ignore. 

We met some Enville Estate horses and traversed four stiles along the way.

Romana sensibly wore yoga tights beneath her wedding dress and we opted for some rather glamorous looking patent hiking boots to complete the look.

Gareth was weighed down with mobile phones, wallets, my reflectors, a rucksack full of props and at any given time, one of the two bouquets.  I couldn't have managed alone.

It was around this time that Marni mentioned that her gorgeous big black cat Lexi, had died suddenly that very morning.  We were devastated for her, being cat lovers ourselves and in awe of her for continuing with the shoot.

Making every effort to keep the mood light, we all found that we had some crazy connections and common interests and despite a traumatic start to the day, there was lots of laughter.

I also had to repeatedly break up Noel and Gareth's bromance chats in order to get the shots I wanted.

Who needs expensive jewellery?  I sourced two "promise rings" - one being an old silver ring I bought as a teenager which was vaguely reminiscent of a Norse rune ring...

...and a more tongue in cheek online purchase for Noel.

Deciding we needed to show off the dress a little, I asked the couple to dance.  After a couple of false starts, there was much twirling to be had and with my camera set to burst mode, I got the shots I wanted, including these two.

A celebratory toast was required after all that physical exertion - from drinking horns naturally.  Taking their places on my recently acquired mid century modern geometric blanket, miraculously avoiding sheep droppings, they enjoyed a draught of imaginary mead.

Soon it was time to pack up and head back down the mountain.

Noel had a turn with the bouquet!

We stopped by this impressive tree for a dedication to Norse mythology and Totemism, using our vintage antlers and a wolf mask.

Then back to The Cat for drinks....

before decamping inside for the warmth of the log fire and Enville Ale, opting for the only free table in the snug.  We glanced at the reservation sign, noting the later time of 6.30 pm and promptly made ourselves at home, still in mid conversation.  Suddenly, Romana drew our attention to the sign.  With Lexi at the forefront of our minds, it made our hair stand on end. 

A magical day of crazy coincidences.  Enville Ale, if you've never tried it, is brewed with honey (as is the Viking favoured drink, mead), giving it it's distinctive taste...a perfect way to celebrate mission accomplished.  We were all quite sad not to be able to stay all evening.

Finally, a shout out to the other suppliers who made it possible - to Kim and Laura from The Petal Bar in Bridgnorth (The Petal Bar | Bridgnorth | Facebook) for their incredible floristry skills...

...to Lydia of the newly opened Bride's View Bridal Boutique (brides_view | Facebook ) for the gorgeous gown.

...and a remote thanks to Svetlana from Present Perfect Creations (PresentPerfect CREATIONS | Facebook) in Norwich for the stunning flower crown.  Your hard work paid off!

Oh, and I also created a little video from snippets of footage Gareth took on the day whilst balancing ruck sacks and props.  However, Noel, our groom is working on the soundtrack, so watch this space. 

Dedicated to Lexi and a life well lived. 

Who Put Bella in the Wych Elm? A Midlands Mystery

In the closing part of my last blog (read it here: Winter Peach Photography: Horticulture, History and a Hint of Intrigue ) you may recall glimpsing an infamous local landmark.

This is the Hagley Obelisk or Hagley Monument on Wychbury Hill (also referred to as the Wychbury Obelisk/Monument).  A needle pointing skywards, the monument is Grade II listed and stands approximately 84 feet (26 metres) high.  There are extensive views from Wychbury Hill and the hill (if not the monument) can be seen from the Malverns.

The monument was commissioned by Sir Richard Lyttelton, son of Sir Thomas Lyttelton (owner of Hagley Hall) in 1758 as a real eye catcher of a family memorial.  At around the same time, Sir Richard was busy landscaping Hagley Park in the new picturesque style and commissioning follies to complement the Hall's surroundings.

Hagley Hall

To me, the monument simultaneously has associations with halcyon days and the kind of darkness to infiltrate dreams.  I have vivid childhood memories of sledging in thick snow from the top of Wychbury Hill.  It's not for the faint hearted and no sledging experience before or since has lived up to the thrill of speeding down this hill.

The darkly fascinating association is best expressed through a question sure to send shivers down the spine of any local resident:  Who Put Bella In the Witch Elm?

Our story starts almost 79 years ago to the day, on 18th April 1943, when four local bird nesting boys, trespassing in Hagley Wood, spotted a huge Wych Elm.  Thinking it a likely good spot for birds' nests, one boy climbed the tree and peered down into the Wych Elm's hollow trunk...not too dissimilar to this one, photographed last week at Harvington Hall.  

Once part of an Elm avenue at Harvington Hall

It was there his eyes settled upon a skull nestled inside.  Initially the boy thought it was an animal skull, but soon spotted tufts of human hair and teeth.  Understandably unsettled and worried that their trespassing would be revealed, the boys vowed to keep quiet.  However, one was so frightened by the discovery, he confided in his parents and a police investigation began.

As the elm was split, inside, the best part of a female human skeleton (approximately 5 ft tall), was recovered, along with a shoe and fragments of clothing (including taffeta stuffed inside the poor woman's mouth).  Close by another discovery; a gold wedding ring on the skeletal remains of her hand.  It was established that the woman had been dead for approximately 18 months, placing the period of death at around October 1941.  Forensics agreed that her body would have been placed inside the tree "still warm" as it would have been impossible to conceal a body in this manner once rigor mortis had set in.

Many people were reported missing during the second world war and even more moved around with some frequency.  This made the Police Force's ability to trace and identify the 35 year old victim near impossible.  Even her distinctive dental records, though widely circulated, failed to bring any answers.

Approximately one year later, graffiti appeared on a wall in Upper Dean Street in Birmingham.  It read: "Who Put Luebella in the Wych Elm - Hagley Wood?"  Similar graffiti appeared subsequently in Hasbury and at other locations scattered across the region, including, since at least the 1970s, on Wychbury Monument. All messages were apparently written in the same hand, seemingly referencing the same individual.  Over time, "Luebella" (a gypsy name derived from Bluebell) became "Belladonna", eventually settling with "Bella".

Hagley Wood trees

There are a number of compelling theories, though almost all have been disproved.   There's the witchcraft theory, largely resulting from the fact that Bella's hand was found outside of the tree as though deliberately severed (animal interference is in fact the most likely explanation here).  Wychbury Hill is also the site of Wychbury Ring, an Iron Age hill fort.  Local folklore hints at an ancient shrine or henge. A ley line runs through Wychbury Hill - purportedly to Stone Henge - and there is anecdotal evidence of pagan and satanic worship in the area stretching to Clent Hills.  

The Four Stones, Clent, commissioned by the Lytteltons at the same time as Wychbury Obelisk.

There are intriguing stories of World War II espionage in the area; of German spies parachuting in, including a female former German cabaret singer whose speciality was a Birmingham accent.  A particularly disturbing story was relayed via a formal statement issued to the police by a local woman, who claimed her husband bore witness to the murder of a Dutch woman after a late night drinking session with the victim and her boyfriend.  He was so haunted by the vision of a woman's face peering out from a tree, that he lost his sanity and was admitted to a mental hospital for this traumatic recurring dream.  He died before Bella was discovered.  However, as compelling as some of these stories are (and much has been written on this case), there is definitive proof or persuasive evidence sufficient to discount them.

Wherever the truth lies, the killer or the killer's accomplice, must have had local knowledge.  It's simply not plausible that the discovery of a tree like the Wych Elm, sufficiently tall and hollow enough to conceal a body not yet cold, was merely chance.

Another theory points to the Gypsy communities that frequented the area in the 1940s.  Curiously, the body was actually found in an area of woodland closer to Clent Hills than to Wychbury Obelisk, off a lane almost opposite a pub now known as The Badgers Set (purportedly haunted by Bella).  Growing up, my Dad always used to refer to this pub by its former name, The Gypsy's Tent.

Perhaps Bella's poor clothing, crooked teeth and the failure of anyone to come forward and report the woman missing, could be attributed to the traveller community, who live outside of society's usual parameters...?

Inexplicably, the historic graffiti adorning the Wychbury Obelisk, was slightly altered in 2020.  It now reads: "Hers put Bella in the Witch Elm."

The mystery has never been solved, although Bella's likeness can now be revealed, courtesy of work undertaken in 2018 by  Dr Caroline Wilkinson, forensic anthropologist and Director of the Faces Lab at Liverpool John Moores University.  Introducing Bella.  Out of shot is her wavy brown hair, but her distinctive crooked teeth are plain to see.  In yet another twist, Caroline worked only from original case photos of the skull because at some point in the intervening years, Bella's skeletal remains mysteriously vanished!

Much of this story has been verbally relayed to me over the years, a chilling tale reserved for late night car rides and and camping trips.  Unsurprisingly, a number of books have been published on the mystery.  For opera lovers, there is a composition by Simon Holt, inspired by paranormal activity attributed to Bella at the aforementioned Gypsy's Tent pub.  I can also thoroughly recommend the documentary "Who Put Bella in the Wych Elm - The Untold Secrets" a riveting 50 minute watch directed by Jayne Harris (99p for Amazon Prime members) with a hint of more to come on this story...

Watch Who put Bella in the Wych-Elm? - The Untold Secrets | Prime Video (amazon.co.uk)

Inspired by our weekend walk through the twisted trees of Hagley Wood, over carpets of Wood Anemones (I squealed like Ann when I saw them) and up to the monument (it had been many many years since my last visit), I'll leave you with these words and photos.

Luebella, your last breath warm,

Sleeping upright in deadly nightshade,

Drifting on Spring's breeze

like the horse that carried you,

A soul ill at ease.

Belladonna, in Wych Elm's embrace,

Wood Anemone stars twinkle for you

Under two April moons;

An inconvenient secret,

Caught, concealed, cocooned.

Bella, What gives? A band of thieves, that band of gold?

What binds your silken tongue...

Permanently tied?

Though still, you've set in motion,

Wheels to recover your pride.

The wood that held you steady, split, your spirit freed. 

Keen eyes, guilty loose lips

Someone will have told,

Restless still, but rest assured

Bluebell's secret will unfold.

Twilight Tales and Merely a Stroll

A short and sweet blog post this week.  

Following our catch up with friends at the weekend (and a cheeky afternoon glass of wine for me), I indulged in a spot of windscreen photography on the twilight journey home.  Before we proceed, I probably should point out that I wasn't driving.  Quaffing wine and handling a camera whilst driving a car would of course get a swift driving ban and a spell in prison!

Windscreen photography as I call it, is something I frequently do, as it enables me to capture familiar scenes from a different perspective.  The sun was setting and the landscape took on mauve hues and a golden lustre.  

This cyclist, with his light illuminating his route home, was a gift.  

I managed to catch a glimpse of the setting sun through our Beetle's rear window.

This tree, whilst not perfect (ISO noise and slight motion blur) was still a shining example.

Much of this week has been consumed by other more mundane activities.  In addition, the incessant wind and a minor foot injury has put paid to many outdoor explorations...so let's fast forward to this weekend.

Last night was my first Islamic house wedding shoot, and what an experience!  I had a 10 minute heart stopping period early on when my photos in preview suddenly appeared to be partially blacked out.  After running a few tests and with 20 minutes to spare before the groom was due to arrive, I made a frantic phone call to my mentor, Jenny, who conducted a quick telephone trouble shoot and then went off to Google the issue.  Within minutes she had a suggestion, which mercifully worked a treat!  Of course it's Murphy's Law that I had tested my little used flash all week, without issue and the one time it decided to test my sanity was on a job!

After that, the evening went relatively smoothly.  Set to a soundtrack of ululations and Islamic wedding songs, my biggest challenges were not treading on anyone's toes, not being distracted by the incredible outfits and henna tattoos and not getting some of the elders - who did not wish to be photographed - in shot.

Until I have edited the 100 plus photos and delivered them to the clients, I am unable to share any here.  However, here's a photo from a previous wedding shoot.  Here, the bride, Leyla, wears her red henna hand decorations with pride.  Aren't they exquisite?

I have only experienced the riotous sound of the ululation first hand once before, at Leyla's wedding.  However, last night's ululations were confined to four walls, so the neighbours would have been in no doubt that there was an almighty celebration taking place.  

The practice is rooted in the culture of North Africa, but is pretty widespread, reaching central-south Asia, the Middle East and even parts of Europe such as Cyprus.  It has also been adopted by certain Jewish communities.  However, one ululation doesn't necessarily sound like another.  Each has its own unique sound.  

Ululations denote joy, celebration, victory and honour, and have also been used in prayer, hunting and resistance against colonial powers.  The roots of the sound go way back to the ancient civilisations of Greece and Egypt, appearing on the inscription of the pyramid texts of Unas.  Homer mentions ololuge (ululation) in his works, as does Herodotus, citing ululation in North Africa - where it is still practiced - saying: 

 "I think for my part that the loud cries uttered in our sacred rites came also from thence; for the Libyan women are greatly given to such cries and utter them very sweetly."

With my ears ringing, I bid my farewells at the end of my allotted time, but not before my hosts insisted on issuing me with a carrier bag full of Indian foodie treats to take home with me.  The kindness of strangers!

This afternoon, we took a leisurely stroll to a favourite spot close to Enville - Mere Mill; a Grade II listed, early 19th century red brick, tiled roof water mill.   There were puddles and overflowing ditches courtesy of the gloomy weather.

Mere Mill has suffered from an air of abandonment and neglect for as long as I can remember, but there is something magical about it.  The area surrounding the mill is devoid of road noise, the only sounds being running water and the rustling of trees.

https://www.facebook.com/100000164335945/videos/389907776468964/

I took a short video of the location to capture said tree rustling and running water.  Those of you with keen hearing might just be able to pick out the timeless sound of clinking bottles.  The story behind this is thus.

Whilst many locals are unaware of this building, sadly a few determined fly tippers seem to periodically make a pilgrimage to the mill, leaving anything from plant pots and a child car seat to today's discovery.  I heard Gareth tut at a carrier bag full of empty bottles.  His wombling instinct kicked in and he picked up the bag of bottles to add its contents to our recycling at home.  The weight of the bag immediately suggested that the bottles were not empty.  On further investigation, there were no less than 6 bottles of wine - still corked and sealed.  They had obviously been there for some time...but then wine ages well.  

Did we bring them home?  That is the question. I'll leave you to ponder on that.