The elusive ibex in the Simien Mountains of Ethiopia

Nearly twenty years ago, it was our good fortune to spend time with our friends Michael and Maricella in Addis Ababa in the Horn of Africa. Ethiopia has been a Christian country since the 4^th century and evidence of this is seen in the many remarkable churches which we visited.  Better yet, we were able to embark on a trekking expedition to the Simien Mountains, a UNESCO World Heritage Site.  Ethiopia is home to the world’s only population of Walia Iibex, which is only found living on the high, steep cliffs of the Simien Mountains. Would we get to see one?

A pious man studying his texts

A wizened face that suggests the wisdom of a lifetime

Fortunately, all our bags were transported by mules on our expedition

In the early miles, our progress was watched by curious onlookers

Some of us took full advantage of the mules

Given Ethiopia’s hostile relationship with Eritrea and our proximity to the border, our guide doubled as a guard

Along the way, we also saw the herbivorous Ethiopian Gelada, the last surviving species of ancient grazing primates (and no, its not a baboon)

The Gelada as described in 1835

The intrepid trekking group at our highest point

The Simien Mountains consisting of sequences of basaltic lava deposited on the Precambrian crystalline basement.

The Walia Ibex as described in 1835

When we reached the top of our climb, we still had not seen any ibex. Then, gazing across a wide ravine the guide excitedly pointed out one lone animal far, far away on the opposite cliff.  We searched and searched in vain but sadly failed to see what he was looking at. We wondered if his claims were for our benefit only; after all, his eyes were much older than ours.  

Months later, I printed my photos of the cliff and scrutinized them with a magnifying glass.

And guess what?

Obvious when you know what you are looking for

Mrs. Harker; a quiet influence on my childhood

From time to time, I would say things to Sharon such as: “Mrs. Harker made wonderful ginger biscuits” or “Mrs. Harker gave me some cool things that her brother brought back from Nigeria” or “Mrs. Harker and I walked over the moors to Ilkley for my birthday”.  Not unreasonably, Sharon would then ask me about Mrs. Harker and I did not have all the answers. This account is an attempt to provide some of these answers.

Mrs. Harker (late 1950s). Taken on the lawn in her back garden.

Mrs. Harker was a neighbour who lived close-by at 31, Unity Street.  I spent many hours in her company as a child but really knew very little about her. Until now.  When I started my research, I located a remarkable online transcript of an interview with her that was conducted in the late 1960s as part of a study “The Edwardians; Family Life and Work Experience Before 1918”. This project was created by Paul Thompson, Research Professor of Sociology at the University of Essex and is now archived at the University. It, together with sites such as Ancestry and FindMyPast enabled me to compile something of Mrs. Harker’s story. 

Mrs. Harker was born Frances Thornborough in 1895 in Casterton, just across the River Lune from Kirkby Lonsdale in Westmorland. Her parents were James and Margaret (née Nicholson), also from Kirkby Lonsdale. At the time they were married, Margaret was a cook at Casterton Hall (note: there are no less than three buildings that lay claim to this name). Frances attended Casterton National School, founded in 1823 by the Reverend Carus Wilson.

 Casterton National School which Frances Thornborough attended before the family’s move to Riddlesden when she was about six years old.

James was employed as a gardener (as was his father, Edward) but also had a less-reputable source of income.

“Apart from his gardening? Well he'd go poaching. Everybody in the village poached you see, except the parson and the policeman. The River Lune was at the bottom of the wood. And if the bobby saw a man coming out of the wood with a sack on his back, he'd just say, Goodnight Jim. Next day, he would call at mother's to see how the babies were; there was always one in the cradle. And there'd be his little paper parcel on the table. He said nothing, mother said nothing. But he picked up the parcel and when he got home, it was his piece of salmon. That's how they did it in Casterton. And the parson knew. And he also used to call to enquire about the babies. And he got tomorrow's dinner. There were great goings-on in that little village. I wish I lived there now. No, that would be the only other job he did, besides his gardening, just his bit of poaching”.

By 1901, the Thornborough family had moved to Morton Banks (Riddlesden), near Keighley. James Thornborough first worked as a gardener for James Clarkson at West Riddlesden Hall, a fine 17^th century manor house near the Leeds-Liverpool canal. Clarkson was a solicitor at a well-known Keighley law firm. James was later employed by the Keighley Rural District Council in the road maintenance department.

West Riddlesden Hall circa 1920 where James Thornborough worked as a gardener

Frances had two elder brothers, Isaac Edward and John (Jack), a younger brother Henry (Harry) and a younger sister, Annie Elizabeth. The 1911 census shows Isaac and John as solicitors’ clerks (with Clarkson’s firm), Frances as a blouse maker and Henry as a doffer (one who removes bobbins holding spun fiber from a wool spinning frame). Apparently, James and Margaret had a total of seven children but two had died in infancy. The youngest child, Willie, died when he was three but nothing is known about the other.

A child-doffer in the Yorkshire textile industry

Upon moving to Riddlesden, the Thornborough family lived in a decent-sized cottage (converted from two smaller ones) near the Hall. Around 1905, they moved to 31, Unity Street though goodness knows how they all fit into the two-bed terraced house.

Riddlesden taken from Thwaites Brow (2014). The steep Unity Street can be seen just right of center.

Frances had a very happy childhood though life was not always easy but that was true for many families in those days. The weekly washing was done in a boiler that had a burner underneath it. Margaret made all the children’s’ clothes. and knitted the boys’ socks. James bought a last and bought already-cut leather to sole the children’s shoes. Bath-time would be in a tub in front of the fire: the cleanest got in first, the dirtiest was last. 

Unity Street (2014).  Number 31 was in the middle of this row of terraced houses on a nerve-challenging cobbled street.

The Thornboroughs apparently ate well. “Liver in those days was about tuppence a pound: liver and onions with dumplings in. And roast potatoes because they all went in the oven you hadn't to bother with a pan. And then a rice pudding after that. Another day it would be a meat and potato pie. And the crust would an inch thick; beautiful flaky suet crust.  But there was one thing that puzzled me for many years. Oh, I think I was grown up before I knew the reason. It was a great big pie like that, she had two enamel dishes, one held a quart of milk, that she could make a rice pudding you see and the other held the meat. And one corner always had a cross in it. I never knew until I was grown up that this corner of crust with the cross on it was dad's. There was more meat in it.  Our joint was always cooked on Sundays. Mother was a good cook, we had glorious meals.”

Margaret must have been an avid reader: Frances recounted on several occasions how her mother’s choice for relaxation was to disappear with her book.  James seems to have been a good husband and father.  He lit the fire every morning and have a good blaze going by the time his wife got down.  “He would have done anything. Any mortal thing we'd asked him. He would have - when we were tiny he always took us out. And as I tell you he went to church every Sunday morning and in due time shepherded five children in. He would have laid his soul open for us”.

As a child, Isaac had been diagnosed with diseased vertebrae but must have recovered as he went to Nigeria at some point, returning in 1914. However, he died two years later, possibly from diabetes. During the Great War, Jack served in the Duke of Wellington’s West Riding Regiment and was killed in action in 1916. He was buried in the Lonsdale military cemetery in France.  1916 was clearly a terrible year for the family. 

Above: Jack Thornborough.   Below: the Lonsdale military cemetery where he is buried

Harry served in the Scots Guards in the Great War, being discharged in 1919.  In 1915, when he was 18, Harry married Sarah Catherine Briggs who was 12 years his senior. In 1954, he married again, to Dorothy Charnley who was 28 years younger than he.  There is some anecdotal evidence (the 1939 register) to suggest that Harry did have at least one child. During our acquaintance, Frances never spoke of Harry or his family.

Frances left school at 13 and for two years stayed with aunts back in Kirby Lonsdale while she learned dressmaking. She then went to work at a shop on North Street in Keighley. Frances was courting a boy around 1916 but he went to the Great War and was killed in the following year.  She remained close friends with his sister and became godmother to her daughter.

In 1938, the then 43-year-old Frances married one Joseph Harker. Joseph was born in Lodge Green, Melbecks in Swaledale in the North Riding of Yorkshire, son of James Harker, a lead miner.  Joseph’s mother was Alice Bell. In the early 1880s, the Harker family moved to Keighley. Alice died shortly thereafter, when Joseph was only 8 and his father subsequently remarried, to Sarah Ann Greenwood. By the time he was only 12, Joseph was working as a worsted spinner in Keighley, as was his 10-year-old younger brother.  Some researchers have estimated that in those days, children under 13 comprised up to 20% of the work force in the wool mills. Sadly, his father, James ended up as a resident of the Pauper Lunatic Asylum in Menston where he died in 1913.

In 1903, Joseph Harker, by then a colour matcher in a wool mill, married Susan Smith of Keighley, with whom he had two children, Alice Muriel and Eric Smith.  Susan died in 1932.  His later marriage to Frances Thornborough was quite short-lived, as he died only four years later.  They had no children.

Frances referred to Joseph and his then-wife when reminiscing about entertainment options with her friends during the War years. “There was only about the pictures that you could go to for sixpence. You got a beautiful seat for sixpence with plush tip-ups. And then you could go to the Temperance Hall every Monday evening when the Glee Union used to give a concert there. It was a glorious all male concert.  In due time, many, many years after, I married the conductor of the Glee Union. Not that me going to the sixpenny concerts led up to it: his wife was alive and kicking in those days”.

In her later years, Frances Harker became a genteel member of the Riddlesden community. She was Chairman and President of the local Conservative party and was a regular member of the congregation at St. Mary’s Church. Frances died in Riddlesden in 1980. Probate listed her assets as £8977, most of which was presumably made up by the value of her house.

St Mary’s Church, Riddlesden where Mrs. Harker was a regular member of the congregation

I do not know how the relationship between Mrs. Harker and the Hudson family became established. My elder brother remembers Frances’ mother, Margaret, from the early 1940s who continued to live in Unity Street after her husband died. Throughout my childhood, I clearly remember spending many hours with Mrs. Harker. I would just go over and knock on the door at Number 31.  She was a good cook and certainly I enjoyed the afore-mentioned ginger biscuits on occasions.  I remember the house very well, including the attic where her brother’s Nigerian artifacts were stored and her cellar where her delicious elderflower wine was kept. On one birthday occasion, she and a friend of hers walked with me over the moors to Ilkley and we then went for afternoon tea before taking the bus back. That would have been an all-day affair. On occasions, her sister, Anne would come to visit. Miss Thornborough was considered exotic by the village.  She lived in London, wore heavy make-up, had horn-rimmed glasses and smoked cigarettes using a cigarette-holder. Mrs. Harker gave me various artifacts that her brother brought back from Nigeria and also, his stamp album that today probably would have been quite valuable. These gifts gave rise to my own father’s somewhat unjust comment “Hasn’t she got a dustbin?”

A horn from an Ibex-like creature that Mrs. Harker’s brother brought back from his African assignment.  Last of the artifacts that she gave to me.

Sadly, my mother and Mrs. Harker had a falling out in my teen years, probably over a misunderstanding. As I grew older, our relationship also faded. After I left for University in 1966, I have few memories of going to see her. With hindsight, that is a matter of some regret.