A LITTLE FRIVOLITY

During idle moments we dream up biographies of characters who may have shared their name with that of an apple variety. There are over 5,000 apple varieties in the world, half of which come from the British Isles, so this will forever be a work in progress but if you would like to contribute your own “biographies” then please email them to us. We will of course, credit your contributions (or not, according to your wish) but we do reserve the right to edit; we need to make sure that apostrophes are in the right place as we’re sticklers for grammar. With luck we can fill this page with characters who are interesting and quirky (but not outlandishly so).

egremont russet

 Egremont was born in 1835, the only child of William Russet, the vicar of Allerton Mauleverer, Yorkshire, and his wife Rebecca. A bright child, he was awarded a scholarship to Ripon Grammar School, where he thrived in his academic studies, and went on to read Anglo-Saxon, Norse and Celtic at King’s College, Cambridge. He spent most of his adult life in West Africa as a Methodist missionary but having grown up in and around Allerton Castle it perhaps isn’t surprising that he was somewhat eccentric, this manifesting itself in his establishing the School of Norse Mythology in Oshogbo, in present-day Nigeria. Popular, hardworking and ascetic, he was successful in his missionary work and despite all odds his School flourished. In seeking to expand the popularity of Norse mythology in West Africa, Egremont sought to establish a new school in Timbuktu but was last seen near Mopti in July 1874, heading in a northerly direction without a solar topi on his head. It was feared he succumbed to the disorienting affects of heatstroke and the harsh conditions of the Sahel but new information has recently come to light that suggests Egremont was more resourceful and resilient than originally thought. It now appears he may have reached Gao, a walk of over 800 kilometres from Mopti (assuming he followed the course of the Niger River, the direct route being somewhat shorter but almost entirely without any source of water).

For reasons known only to herself, a jobbing humanitarian aid worker undertook a cycling holiday through the Sahel in the early 1990s, a time when that region was perhaps better known for its somnolence than the unfortunate and violent insurgencies that make such a journey impossible today. On reaching Gao, our holidaying humanitarian received a letter, poste restante, requesting her urgent presence in Mogadishu, where a humanitarian catastrophe was unfolding as a result of the civil war there and the world's hapless response to it.

By virtue of various Telex massages transmitted to and from the Médecins sans Frontières regional headquarters in Abidjan, sent via their sub-offices in Ougadougou and with the help of the friendly head librarian of Gao's newly built municipal library (a gift from the Swedish Development Agency, who had provided funds for the building, on the understanding that the Danish Development Agency would provide money for books but whose funding had yet to materialise, resulting in a fine library building with no books and a head librarian with time on his hands) she was informed that an aeroplane would be sent to collect her and requesting she wait at Gao airstrip (it would be misleading to call the relatively flat and relatively smooth patch of gravel, sand and grass an airfield, let alone an airport, given that its purpose was to be a thoroughfare for vehicles, bicycles and pedestrians on their way to or from the centre of Gao from all points south of the town, as well as provide grazing for all the goats of the locality).

Being an experienced traveller she set up camp under the shadiest acacia tree she could find, knowing it might be several days before a single-engine Cessna would arrive to pick her up. As she waited, her back resting against the trunk, she read her battered copy of James Joyce's Dubliners and as she did so she slowly revolved around the tree, trying to stay in the shade, keeping the trunk between her and the burning sun as it moved across the sky. As she shuffled around the tree, she gradually hollowed out a shallow trench in the sand and gravel around the tree and on the third morning she felt the heel of her boot strike something hard. Having gained a degree in Archaeology from a respectable European university her interest was piqued, so she set about a careful excavation and before long she had in her hands a pair of early Victorian spectacles, intact but with badly scratched lenses, contained within a metal case on which the initials E R were still just visible. The metal case was completely filled with sand and clearly had not been disturbed for a long time. We cannot be certain, of course, that the spectacles belonged to Egremont Russet himself but their antiquity and the condition in which they were found suggests it is a distinct possibility, in which case it may be that he did reach Timbuktu after all and was, perhaps, on his way back to Oshogbo when he, too, rested awhile under the shadiest acacia tree in Gao.

And what of the spectacles now? When the Cessna eventually arrived, piloted by a young Canadian who appeared to wear Ray-Ban Wayfarer sunglasses no matter the weather or the time of day or night, our jobbing humanitarian quickly re-buried the spectacles where she had found them, hoping it would encourage her to return to Gao, so she could resume and complete her cycle tour of the Sahel. Events and her career, however, took her elsewhere, so it's very likely they are still there, buried beneath the shadiest acacia tree in Gao.

Fortunately, for those who are interested in the life and times of Egremont Russet, the archaeological method she had learned at the respectable university led her to record meticulously the findings of her excavation in her diary - it’s fascinating stuff - and to take several photographs of the spectacles, one of which is shown below.

Ashmead’s kernel

… or why our single variety Ashmead’s Kernel cider is called The Colonel (quite apart from the COLONEL : KERNEL homophone).

Major General Sir Archibald Digby Ashmead KCB KCMG served in the ceremonial position of Colonel of the Gloucestershire Regiment of the British Army, the Glosters, for a short period of time in 1902. With an optimistic and cheerful demeanour, he eschewed the formalities of the day, was an enlightened thinker and in many ways was well ahead of his time. These traits made him popular with the troops, particularly those of the 1st and 3rd Battalions but he never built a rapport with the 2nd Battalion, for some reason.

Archibald had an unusual childhood. His father, Cuthbert, was the seemingly permanent chargé d’affaires for the East India Company in the French enclave of Pondicherry (now Puducherry), from the time of Archibald’s birth in August 1838 to his retirement in the mid-1870s. Rather than send his first - and only - son back to England for the traditional, formal, staid “public” school education, Archibald was enrolled into the local académie française. Exposed to the diverse and varied influences of Pondicherry, Archibald developed a keen awareness and understanding of the people of India; he spoke both Hindi and Tamil fluently, as well as French, and gained an outsider’s perspective on the workings of the British Raj. This cosmopolitan outlook came in useful when, during the Indian Mutiny of 1857 as a newly commissioned Lieutenant in the Madras Army of the East India Company, he succeeded in quelling a potential rebellion in Chinglepet (now Chengalpattu) by quiet diplomacy and without bloodshed, largely acting on his own initiative and possibly in contradiction of orders (that never arrived, according to his defence at the subsequent Board of Enquiry). Uniquely, controversially but with foresight, he subsequently referred to the Mutiny as the First War of Indian Independence.

Despite being a controversial figure, his thoughtful and empathetic approach to leadership ensured that promotion followed. Seeking further notice and influence than was available in the relatively quiet southern Indian states, Archibald gained a transfer to the Bombay Army in 1868. It was here that his his love of cricket came to the fore. Deprived of the sport during his childhood in Pondicherry, he quickly demonstrated excellent hand-eye co-ordination and proved himself to be a natural cricketer. As with his time in eastern India, Archibald was at pains to understand the indigenous population and was a regular visitor to the cricket-playing Parsee community, where he learned the art of wrist-spin bowling. A useful lower-order batsman, it was his mesmeric bowling that ensured he was a regular in the Regiment’s First XI … until he bowled his Commanding Officer, Lieutenant General The Honourable Sir Augustus Almeric Spencer, GCB, for a golden duck with a perfectly flighted and well-disguised googly, in the annual intra-regimental match. Although the General took it well, the wider “establishment” felt that Archibald’s competitiveness “wasn’t cricket” and demoted him to the Second XI. Infuriated at such petty-mindedness, Archibald instead chose to play for the Regimental Third XI for the rest of his time in India and spent more time with the Parsee dominated Zoroastrian Cricket Club. It is thought that his preference for the the 1st and 3rd Battalions of the Gloucester Regiment, at the expense of the 2nd, came from this episode, although this can only be regarded as conjecture.

He served with gallantry and distinction in the Second Afghan War and the Third Anglo-Burmese War. He was both courageous and considerate of his men, the antithesis of an armchair general, but sustained a serious injury when effecting a crossing of the Irrawaddy. This necessitated him being invalided to England, where he landed at the age of 50, a land he had never visited before. During his recovery he tasted an apple for the first time - the particular variety is not recorded - and although his initial reaction was one of disappointment he did, in time, come to appreciate the fruit, although it never fully replaced his love of mangoes. On recovering he joined the British Army and towards the end of his career he would always be seen eating an apple when inspecting the troops, the end result of which was mirth amongst the soldiers and a solitary apple core littering the parade ground, which the pomologically knowledgeable soldiers charged with tidying up referred to as an “Ashmead’s kernel”.

YARLINGTON MILL

It has been suggested by one of our customers, Steven Fenn, that Yarlington Mill was a politician who achieved the height of his success during the Great Depression of the 1930s … although at this juncture little is known about whether he leaned to the left or the right politically and nothing is known about his background.

Kingston Black

A privateer who gained fame whilst Singeing the King of Spain's Beard, alongside Francis Drake. His exploits during this expedition gained him popular acclaim, after which he was commonly referred to as "Barber" Black.  He is also said to have been one of Drake's bowl-playing companions on Plymouth Hoe when, a year later, the Armada heaved into view, although this whole episode is likely to be apocryphal. Little more is known about him, other than the fact that BUSHEL+PECK has named its single variety Kingston Black cider - Privateer - after him.

tom putt

Born to a London stevedore in 1912, he became a window-cleaner and established a very successful business in Hackney in the 1930s.  He is credited with being the first to use sponges rather than rags or cloths to clean windows, one reason for his success, no doubt. He volunteered and served with distinction in the 57th (London) Infantry Division in WW2 and earned a Military Medal during the Italian campaign, where his familiarity with ladders was particularly useful during the final assault on Monte Cassino. He resurrected his business after the war but decided to move to Cornwall with his wife Gwendolyn when the Clean Air Act of 1956 threatened to suppress demand for his services. Together with Gwen, he ran a popular B&B near Looe for many years, whilst also working as a delivery driver for a local maker of clotted cream. Active to the last, he died in September 2012, a few days after his 100th birthday, happy and contented … but a little disappointed that the London Olympics declined his offer to be a “Games-Maker". Despite spending more than half his life in Cornwall he never lost his Cockney accent.

CHISEL JERSEY

Having been born in Indianapolis, home of the famous Indy 500, Frederick “Chisel” Jersey was perhaps destined to become an Formula 1 driver. He challenged Juan Manuel Fangio and Alberto Ascari for the title in the early 1950s but died in a tragic accident at the Swiss Grand Prix in Bremgarten in 1954. Nicknamed "Chisel" for his rugged good looks, he was widely considered to be the finest driver of his generation never to win the overall Championship.

Brown snout

A single variety Brown Snout is in the making but we have no idea what to call it!