Old Photographs of Gypping in the Marsh - New

Old Photographs of Gypping in the Marsh

This webpage shows images of Gypping in the Marsh in times past, from the early days of photography, up to the present decade. If you have any old photographs of Gypping in the Marsh that you would like to appear on this page, please email them to the Gypping in the Marsh village website webmaster.

Young girl scavenging for scraps, Watery Lane, circa 1870

This undated photograph of around 1870 shows a young girl scavenging for scraps among the heaps of refuse that fill Watery Lane.

Watery Lane, now a road of desirable - if somewhat damp - residences, was regarded as being the poorer end of Gypping in the Marsh in Victorian times. With schooling not yet being compulsory for children and the invention of TikTok still being a century and a half away, scavenging for scraps was a popular way for many village children to spend their time in the 1870s.

Interestingly, recent council cuts to the street cleaning budget have resulted in Watery Lane - and other roads in the village - regaining a little of their Victorian look and feel.

A black and white photograph of a young girl scavenging for scraps in a filth-strewn road, with emaciated dogs roaming the street

A young girl scavenging for scraps, Watery Lane, circa 1870

Murray's Adult Shop, Scrote Street, circa 1880

This undated photograph shows Murray's Adult Shop, which once stood on the corner of Scrote Street and High Street. Bucking the general prudishness of the Victorian era, Murray's Adult Shop was unique in the Lincolnshire fens, being the only shop for miles around to sell adult-oriented goods and literature.

The penny-farthing dates this photograph to around 1880; it was certainly taken before 1887, when Murray's Adult Shop was burned to the ground by a mob of protesting Methodists, following an ill-fated decision by Mr Murray to stock the now infamous Readers' Wives' Ankles illustrated pamphlet. Gypping Building Society now stands on the site.

A black and white photograph of a man on a penny-farthing cycling past a shop called Murray's Adult Shop

Murray's Adult Shop, Scrote Street, circa 1880

Murray's arsenic factory, circa 1880

This undated photograph shows Murray's arsenic factory, a rare example of Victorian industry in the fens and Gypping in the Marsh's main employer in the late 1800s. Arsenic had an incredibly wide variety of applications in Victorian times, including face creams, foods, textiles, wallpapers and rat poison, and Murray's was the leading producer of arsenic in the east of England.

After the dangers of arsenic became widely-known, Murray converted the factory to the production of mercury in 1893. Mercury was produced there until 1966, when the factory finally closed. After lying derelict for nearly three decades, the factory was finally demolished and the site cleared in 1994. The local council purchased the site for a knock-down price the following year, spread a layer of topsoil over the ground and gave it over to the communal allotments that can still be seen there today.

A black and white photograph of a smoke-belching Victorian factory with a sign reading Murray's Finest Arsenic

Murray's arsenic factory, circa 1880

Saint Bunty's Orphanage, circa 1890

These undated photographs show Saint Bunty's Orphanage (now Saint Bunty's Home for Parentally-Challenged Children) as it looked during the Victorian period.

While the exterior of the building has changed quite radically since these photographs were taken - the new Duke of York dormitory wing now adjoins the right-hand side of the building as it appears in this shot - the photograph of the orphans inside one of the building's original dormitories looks as if it could have been taken yesterday.

A black and white photograph of a grim and forbidding looking building, with bars at the windows

Saint Bunty's Orphanage, in the Victorian period

A black and white photograph of poor orphans in rags, in a dilapidated dormitory

Some of the happy occupants of Saint Bunty's posing for the camera

The Great Hall, Hemlock Hall, in its Victorian heyday

This undated photograph shows the Great Hall of Hemlock Hall during the Victorian era, when it was at the peak of its splendour.

Since this photograph was taken, time has not been kind to Hemlock Hall, but its current owner, the 18th Earl of Gypping, is doing all he can to restore the hall to its former glory.

The Great Hall, Hemlock Hall, in its Victorian heyday

The 15th Earl of Gypping preparing for the Feast Day of Saint Bodkin in 1896

This rare early photograph, taken in Saint Bodkin's church in 1896, shows the 15th Earl of Gypping, resplendent in his long, flowing cloak and goat head mask, preparing for the ceremony that forms the climax of the day (in more ways than one) on the Feast Day of Saint Bodkin.

An early photograph from 1896 of the 15th Earl of Gypping in a goat's head mask and red cloak

The 15th Earl of Gypping preparing for the 1896 Feast Day of Saint Bodkin

The 16th Earl of Gypping brings electricity to Hemlock Hall, 1899

In contrast to his traditionalist father, the 16th Earl of Gypping was fascinated by science and innovation and was always tinkering with one invention or another. In 1899 he brought electricity to Hemlock Hall, making it the first house in the village to have an electricity supply.

While other electrical pioneers in English country houses relied on water management schemes or steam power to produce their electricity, Lord Murray preferred to use a more traditional power source for his dynamos. He installed two large wooden treadmills in the cellars of Hemlock Hall and entered into an agreement with Saint Bunty's Orphanage, under the terms of which the orphanage provided the manpower (or, to be more accurate, 'childpower') to power the dynamos 24 hours a day, in return for a small reduction in the orphanage's ground rent.

A black and white photograph of two ragged children leaning against a wooden treadmill in a dark and dusty cellar

Two orphans about to start their 12 hour shift in the cellars of Hemlock Hall, 1899

The orphan-powered treadmills proved to be such a cheap and reliable source of power for Hemlock Hall, with only the occasional maiming and fatality being recorded, that they remained in use until 1937, long after mains electricity had been introduced into the village. In that year, Lord Murray calculated that the cost of mains electricity had fallen below the cost of providing the treadmill-pounding orphans with gruel, crutches and coffins, so the treadmills were decommissioned and Hemlock Hall was finally connected to the mains.

A black and white photograph of dangerous-looking electrical equipment sparking in a dark and dusty cellar

Lord Murray's electrical equipment in the cellars of Hemlock Hall, 1899

The 16th Earl of Gypping: steam power pioneer, 1912 - 1916

As well as being the man who introduced electricity to Hemlock Hall, the 16th Earl of Gypping funded the development of one of Britain's first steam-powered cars - the Murray Steamer - which went through several iterations before Lord Murray abandoned the idea. The following series of photographs show prototypes of the Murray Steamer at each stage of its development.

Lord Murray had hoped that the Murray Steamer would be a runaway success and that sales of the machine would secure the future of Hemlock Hall, which was in need of expensive repairs to the roof and foundations at the time. However, the only things that ran away whenever Lord Murray drove his temperamental contraptions through the village on experimental runs were the village folk and their horses.

The first photograph in the series shows the first Murray Steamer prototype making its way through Gypping in the Marsh in 1912. Lord Murray made several trial runs through the village in the summer of 1912 in this prototype, until a boiler explosion in August of that year resulted in the complete destruction of the vehicle, severe damage to two cottages on Spring Lane and the sad demise of two inhabitants of the cottages.

A black and white photograph of a steam-powered car spouting out smoke and steam in a village street, with people looking on and a horse bolting

The first Murray Steamer making its way through Gypping in the Marsh, 1912

After the loss of the first prototype, Lord Murray went back to the drawing board and came up with the second version of the Murray Steamer, here seen in action in the streets of Gypping in the Marsh in 1913. At the end of the vehicle's second trial run, its boiler exploded in Hemlock Hall's stableyard, resulting in the complete destruction of the west end of the stable block and the unfortunate death of three stable boys.

The second Murray Steamer making its way through Gypping in the Marsh, 1913

The third photograph in the series shows the final prototype Murray Steamer on its first - and last - run through Gypping in the Marsh in 1914. In this final version of the vehicle, the driver and passengers are placed unusually high above the ground, in an attempt to get them as far away as possible from the temperamental boiler.

The photograph captures the precise moment at which the Murray Steamer's boiler exploded. Miraculously, Lord Murray and his butler, who were at the helm at the time, escaped completely unharmed. The same cannot be said of the visiting group of choirboys from Cambridgeshire, who were walking along the road to Saint Bodkin's church at the time of the explosion and were caught in the blast. They lost five of their number.

Shrapnel marks, left by the shards of red-hot metal that flew out from the exploding boiler, can still be seen in the stonework of the buildings that face the north side of the village green, as can several fragments of bones and teeth, embedded deep in the walls of the buildings.

A black and white photograph of a steam-powered car exploding in a village street, with people looking on and a horse bolting

The third and final Murray Steamer exploding on the village green, 1914

After this final catastrophe, Lord Murray abandoned his attempts to develop a steam-powered road vehicle. He instead turned his attention to harnessing the power of steam on a smaller scale, and developed the world's first - and last - steam-powered alarm clock. The resulting explosion not only devastated the guest bedrooms in the south wing of Hemlock Hall in 1916, but altered the course of succession in the Biskitt family, who were visiting guests of Lord and Lady Murray at the time: the Viscount's eldest son was sadly killed in the blast.

Lord Murray subsequently took up stamp-collecting as a hobby.

A black and white photograph of a steam-powered alarm clock in a grand bedroom

Lord Murray's steam-powered alarm clock in a now-destroyed guest bedroom of Hemlock Hall, 1916

Women collecting snowdrops in the churchyard to be burned, 1927

The Victorians believed that bringing snowdrops into the home could bring bad luck; other folklore told of snowdrops turning milk sour and spoiling eggs. In Gypping in the Marsh, beliefs like this have persisted into the present day. In a custom that is unique to the village, locals collect snowdrops from the churchyard as soon as they come into flower, then burn them in a ritual pyre, to ensure a good harvest from the fields later in the year.

This photograph from 1927 shows local women collecting snowdrops in the churchyard, ready to be burned.

A black and white photograph of women collecting snowdrops from a churchyard in the 1920s

Women collecting snowdrops in Saint Bodkin's churchyard, 1927

Constable Flanagan on the beat, 1928

Constable Flanagan served as the village policeman in Gypping in the Marsh from 1918 until 1929. He was very well-regarded by the villagers, and was a frequent sight as he patrolled the village streets on foot.

Constable Flanagan's one peculiarity was his refusal to wear trousers, behaviour that was put down to shell-shock that he suffered having served in Flanders during the first world war. As he was such a well-loved character, the villagers put up with his somewhat unusual attire without comment.

Constable Flanagan was unfortunately forced to retire as a result of the severe frostbite that he suffered while on duty during the unusally cold winter of 1928-29.

A black and white photograph of a policeman walking down a village street in the 1920s while three women look on

Constable Flanagan on the beat, High Street, 1928

A Murray's Lard Cakes delivery van in the 1930s

This photograph, taken at some point in the 1930s, shows a Murray's Lard Cakes delivery van on the edge of the village. Murray's lard cakes were very popular in the first half of the 20th century, but changing tastes - and a local outbreak of botulism - meant that the business was sadly forced to close in 1954.

A black and white photograph of a van with Murray's Lard Cakes Ltd written on the side, taken during the 1930s

A Murray's Lard Cakes delivery van on the edge of the village

The May Day 1933 recumbent wicker bunny

Gypping in the Marsh is famous for its unique 'Wicker Bunny' ceremony which takes place on May Day each year, in which a large wicker effigy of a bunny rabbit is stuffed full of small farm animals and set alight by the lord of the manor in front of the village folk.

The wicker bunny is traditionally presented in a sitting position, with its ears pointing skywards. May Day 1933 was notable for its unusual 'recumbent' bunny. This was an experiment that was not to be repeated, as that year's bunny lacked the required structural strength, resulting in a number of animals escaping from the bunny before it was fully ablaze and having to be hunted down with axes, mattocks and fire extinguishers.

The May Day 1933 recumbent wicker bunny

World War 2 bomb damage, November 1940

The remoteness of Gypping in the Marsh meant that it almost completely escaped the damage caused by German bombing raids during the second world war. The one exception was Mr Littlejohn's cottage, which was hit by a stray bomb on 14th November 1940 - the night of the infamous Coventry Blitz. This was the only bomb that hit Gypping in the Marsh throughout the entire war.

Somewhat ironically, Mr Littlejohn was known to have been a keen supporter of Oswald Moseley's Blackshirts throughout the 1930s, as well as being a regular reader of the Nazi-sympathising Daily Mail. Finding little sympathy for his plight amongst the villagers, Mr Littlejohn left Gypping in the Marsh after the destruction of his cottage, never to return.

A black and white photograph of a bombed cottage

Mr Littlejohn's cottage, the day after the bombing, November 1940

Collecting dead dogs to help the war effort, March 1941

During the second world war, communities across the country worked together to collect things such as scrap metal and paper to be recycled, to help the war effort. For some reason, Mrs Ellis of Gypping in the Marsh got it into her head that collecting dead dogs would aid the war effort, and in March 1941 she mobilised the village children to collect as many of them as they could find.

Mrs Ellis was quickly disabused of her strange notion when she turned up at the local RAF base with a group of children, pushing prams and carts full of canine corpses.

After attempting to initiate a similar human excrement-collecting campaign later that year - and with suspicion growing that she may have helped some of the dogs on their way toward being corpses - Mrs Ellis was admitted to Saint Bodkin's Institute for the Insane, where she remained until her death in 1953.

A black and white photograph of a woman and a group of children standing next to a pram and a cart full of dead dogs

Mrs Ellis and the village children collecting dead dogs, March 1941

Norbert the chimp in the 1950s

Gilbert 'Ahab' Murray, a merchant seaman in the 1950s, brought a chimp back with him after a voyage to Africa as a present for his wife, to keep her company while he was away at sea. The creature was apparently completely house-trained and would sit in the lounge, dressed in a sailor's suit, sipping tea quite happily.

The chimp - Norbert - was apparently excellent company for Gilbert's wife, Muriel... until the day that it decided to dash her brains out with a toaster.

A black and white photograph of a chimpanzee dressed in a sailor suit drinking tea out of a china cup

Norbert enjoying a cup of tea in Mrs Murray's sitting room

A Gypping Drinks delivery lorry in the 1960s

Does anyone remember Mr Gadd, who used to travel around south Lincolnshire in the Gypping Drinks lorry in the 1960s and early 1970s, delivering soft drinks door to door?

His happy, smiling face was a regular sight in Gypping in the Marsh, until a few of the locals discovered him doing something unspeakable with the bottles in 1974. After this, he was never seen in the village - or anywhere else, for that matter - again.

A photograph of a lorry delivering soft drinks, taken during the 1960s

Mr Gadd's soft drinks delivery lorry in the village centre

Four character studies by Newton Applethorpe, early 1970s

The following photographs are taken from a series called 'Fenland Lives', taken by the renowned Gypping in the Marsh photographer Newton Applethorpe (1946-1989). In this series, Applethorpe aimed to capture the essential essence of everyday people working in the fenland country. Four of the photographs - the ones you see below - were taken in Gypping in the Marsh in 1971 or 1972.

The first shows Mr Murray, the village butcher, in the back room of his shop. Despite the passage of time, the back room of the village butcher's shop has not changed a great deal since this photograph was taken.

Sadly, Mr Murray took his own life in 1974, following an unsatisfactory inspection by officers from the local Environmental Health department.

A black and white photograph of a crazed-looking man with wild hair, wearing a blood-stained butcher's apron and holding a meat cleaver, in a filthy, dark room, with meat and rats on the counters

Mr Murray, the village butcher, in the back room of his shop, early 1970s

The second photograph shows Mrs Murray, the village baker, whose bubbly personality and cheery countenance brought joy to the villagers for many years. The Murray family have owned the village bakery for generations; the sign above the door boasts that 'We've been in bread for over two hundred years'.

A black and white photograph of a woman holding a loaf of bread, in a filthy, dark bakery, with bread and rats on the counters

Mrs Murray, the village baker, early 1970s

The third photograph in the series depicts Mr Bateman, the owner of Gypping General Stores. Of the three business premises depicted in this series of photographs, this one has changed the most since the photographs were taken, thanks to the introduction of self-scanning tills and the preponderance of vaping equipment that now graces the shelves.

Mr Bateman was renowned for his muscular 'zero tolerance' approach towards shoplifting. He ran Gypping General Stores from 1966 until 1977, when he took early retirement after the unfortunate death of a local schoolboy whom he alleged had walked out of the shop without paying for a packet of mints.

A black and white photograph of a threatening-looking man in an old-fashioned grocer's shop

Mr Bateman, the village grocer, early 1970s

The final photograph in the series depicts Mr West, the Gypping in the Marsh scout master in the early 1970s, who used to run regular scout camps on Gypping Marsh. Mr West was a very popular figure around the village until the day in 1974 when he disappeared, along with two of the boy scouts from his group. The three were not found until 13 years later, when police discovered them living together 'off-grid' in a remote valley in mid-Wales.

A black and white photograph of a threatening-looking man in scouting uniform, together with three boy scouts, next to a tent in a muddy field

Mr West on a scout camp, Gypping Marsh, early 1970s

Mr Cartman and the 'Gypping Marsh UFO', 18th September 1975

This blurry photograph of what became known as the 'Gypping Marsh UFO' caused a sensation back in September 1975. Supposedly snapped by a local man - Mr Cartman - who was out walking his dog on Gypping Marsh in the early evening, debate raged over what exactly the photograph showed. Was it an alien spacecraft? Was it an experimental aircraft from a nearby airbase? Was it a frisbee? Was it for real, or was the whole thing a hoax?

Regardless of the truth of the matter, the story made its way into the national newspapers and Gypping in the Marsh became a magnet for UFO enthusiasts for months afterwards.

A black and white, blurry photograph of a saucer-shaped craft hovering above a marshy landscape

The infamous 'Gypping Marsh UFO', 18th September 1975

Mr Cartman always maintained that the photograph was genuine. Initially, he claimed to have 'lost' three hours on the evening on which the photograph was taken. As time went by, his claims became ever more outlandish. By 1977, he was claiming that he had been 'probed internally' by aliens and that as a result he could receive BBC World Service radio directly in his head. He started wearing a helmet made out of tinfoil at all times 'to block the alien transmissions'.

Having repeatedly warned anyone who would listen that the aliens would come back for him one day, Mr Cartman disappeared one night in 1978 and was never seen again. Did the aliens return and take him away? Or had he merely 'buggered off to Great Yarmouth to shack up with his fancy woman', as his wife maintained? This is one mystery that has never been solved.

A man wearing a tinfoil helmet and a t-shirt that reads 'They probed my anus'

Mr Cartman before his disappearance, 1978

'Raving Gerald' and his sandwich board, 1983

'Raving Gerald', as he was affectionately known in Gypping in the Marsh, could often be seen walking around the village in the early 1980s with his sandwich board, loudly preaching hellfire and damnation to anyone who would listen.

His warnings that 'the end is nigh' turned out to be strangely prophetic - for Gerald, at least - as he was run over and killed by a Lincolnshire RoadCar double-decker bus in the centre of the village in January 1984.

A photograph of a dirty man in ragged clothes, wearing a sandwich board that reads 'the end is nigh', standing in front of an Austin Allegro

'Raving Gerald' and his sandwich board, 1983

The opening of the Jimmy Savile Infirmary Wing, Saint Bunty's, 1991

The famous Radio 1 DJ, Jimmy Savile, had been a generous benefactor to Saint Bunty's Home for Parentally-Challenged Children for many years before the decision was taken by the orphanage to name their new infirmary wing after him.

Savile donated so much money to Saint Bunty's over the years that the orphanage allowed him to stay there, free of charge, whenever he was travelling in the area, giving him keys to the building to enable him to come and go as he pleased. Savile made use of this privilege often, staying in a small bedroom next to the girls' dormitory that had been set aside for his personal use. No doubt his frequent visits gave the children experiences that would stay with them for the rest of their lives.

This photograph shows Savile at the opening of the new Jimmy Savile Infirmary Wing in October 1991, celebrating with three of the orphans.

Jimmy Savile hugging three ragged orphan girls, standing outside a building with a Jimmy Savile Infirmary sign in the window

Jimmy Savile at the opening of Saint Bunty's new wing in 1991

The village scout hut destroyed by a bomb, 14th October 2000

Wing Commander Gilbert Murray, DSO, CBE, SOB (rtd.), organised a fly-past by the RAF Battle of Britain Memorial Flight on 14th October 2000, to commemorate the 60th anniversary of a famous dogfight that took place in the skies above the village during the second world war - the Battle of Gypping Marsh. The entire village turned out to watch an Avro Lancaster bomber, accompanied by a Supermarine Spitfire and a Hawker Hurricane, as they flew low in formation over the village.

Unfortunately, the day was marred by two regrettable events: firstly, by an unfortunate mix up involving a case of live shells that had been marked 'blanks', which resulted in the cheering villagers being strafed as the aeroplanes flew low along the High Street; and secondly, by Wing Commander Murray's accidental bombing of the village scout hut.

Wing Commander Murray's lawyer, Welsby, subsequently managed to get all charges against him dropped, and persuaded the judge to award him costs against the bereaved families.

A destroyed scout hut with a huge bomb sticking out of the roof

The village scout hut destroyed by a bomb, 14th October 2000

The deeply offensive output of Gypping in the Marsh's resident signwriter, 2006

Back in the mid 2000s, Gypping in the Marsh had its own resident signwriter, a Mr Murray, who was renowned not only for the low cost of his signs, but also for his somewhat error-prone approach to his craft. As time went on, displeasure grew over Mr Murray's output. Things came to a head in 2006, when Mr Murray installed a number of deeply offensive new shop signs for local business people.

A displeased man in an apron, standing outside a shop and pointing at the shop sign, which reads 'Mr Penis. Greengrocer'

Mr Panis, the village greengrocer, and his new shop sign, 2006

A displeased man in an apron, standing outside a shop and pointing at the shop sign, which reads 'Mr Dickhead Grocer'

Mr Wickhead, the village grocer, and his new shop sign, 2006

A displeased man, standing outside a shop and pointing at the shop sign, which reads 'Fucker's Hardware'

Mr Focker, the hardware store owner, and his new shop sign, 2006

A displeased man, standing outside a shop and pointing at the shop sign, which reads 'J Cumshot Jewellery'

Mr Gumshot, the village jeweller, and his new shop sign, 2006

A displeased woman, standing outside a shop and pointing at the shop sign, which reads 'Miss Cunt. Seamstress'

Miss Cant, the village seamstress, and her new shop sign, 2006

The installation of the new shop sign for the village's much-loved seamstress, Miss Cant, was the final straw for the locals, and Mr Murray was hounded out of the village the following day, never to return.

'Brexit Day' celebrations, 31st January 2020

The Europhobic residents of the village - 'Mad Roger' and his dog - came out in force on 31st January 2020 to celebrate 'Brexit Day', when at 11pm GMT, the United Kingdom officially left the European Union.

The lively celebrations started in the afternoon and went on well into the night, until annoyed villagers insisted that Roger shut up and go home to bed.

A photograph of a dirty man in ragged clothes, holding a red balloon and two bottles of whisky, standing in a rainy street with a dog in the background

'Mad Roger' celebrating 'Brexit Day', 31st January 2020