We never bothered with Halloween when I was a kid. Its a big deal these days, what with Trick or Treating, and fancy costumes and that.
Bonfire night was allwez the big un fer me. Fireworks and Groaty Pud. I’ll tell yer about Bonfire night next wik.
Anyroad, down the back of our house there is a sewarage farm. It dow smell unless the wind blows in the wrong direction. That Severn Trent installation is off a road that leads in the direction of Kinver now known as ‘Gibbet Lane’.
Back in 1812, a wealthy landowner from Dunsley, Kinver, Benjamin Robins was walking home from Stourbridge where I believe there had been a livestock market, and after selling some of his prized animals, had made a fair amount of money that day.
He was followed home towards KInver, down past where I now live, by William Howe, who had been watching the wealthy Mr Robins carefully, with a view to relieve Benjamin of his days takings.
Howe, a roguish thief of some repute, on that December night decided to add murder to his list of nefarious deeds, and Mr Robins was the unlucky victim.
Stourbridge landowners, fearful of their own safety, were outraged that such an act had taken place and so, after an investigation by Robert Peels newly created police force, the culprit, Howe, was apprehended, taken to Stafford for trial, and thereby hung for the crime.
His body was brought back to Stourbridge and placed in a gibbet in the now named Gibbet Lane, near where the murder occurred.
People have reported seeing the spectre of Howe still lurking down Gibbet Lane over the years with his neck stretched from hanging, and if your brave enough to ask the question when walking Gibbet Wood – “How bist thee Billy Howe?”, he just might answer you……
…..”Cold and Clammy!”.