Hello Mr Parabuild,
I don’t quite know how the discussion regarding ‘Old Silverheels’ has jumped from various topics but let’s try and put it to bed. By that I mean the topic not ‘Old Silverheels’.
Lyme Hall was owned by the Legh family and like all families of great wealth they had a Dower House (I’m just considering sites for my own funnily enough). Their Dower House was at Bridgemont and it was known as Bothams Hall. There are various ways of spelling it before you all start.
Well old Mr Legh died and so his son became Master of Lyme Hall and he needed his wife to be in charge so old Mrs Legh was turfed out to take up residence at Bothams Hall where she was the Dowager.
Are you following this Mr Parabuild?
Good.
The new head of Lyme Hall obviously had great affection for The Dowager, probably because she was his Mother, so he made sure she was well cared for and had everything she needed.
He even bought her a horse; and she became so fond of this horse that it became more like a pet. I don’t mean it slept in a basket in the kitchen or anything like that but it was wonderfully treated for a horse.
When it needed re-shoeing (and I’m tempted here to mention the shoe shop that is now Footsteps but I won’t) it was shod with solid silver horse shoes.
Can you just imagine that Mr Parabuild?
Well all good things come to an end and the faithful steed became ill. So ill in fact that the Dowager realised it should suffer no more. She called upon her staff to take her much loved horse away and to send it to the Promised Land. But she did not want to know anything about it. Well you wouldn’t would you?
They took it away from Botham’s Hall and led it up to Hoggs Yard, which is now the Corner Shop, there they dug the poor animal’s grave. But they dug it neither wide enough nor deep enough.
The beast stood alongside its final resting place and it was dispatched. I don’t know how and I don’t want to but it fell into the hole.
I hope this isn’t too distressing for you Mr Parabuild but it has to be said.
The problem was it fell over and ended upside down. Personally I have never buried a horse so I am not 100% sure on the correct procedure anyway.
The burial crew were by this time very worried; they could not lift it out and dig the hole deeper so they squashed or bent the poor horse’s legs down so they were just below the level of ground; but only just so.
They quickly filled it in and beat a hasty retreat and all agreed they would say nothing. But one of them got a bit too much beer one night and spoke of those terrible events but had the good sense not to reveal the location.
So in all the ensuing years and right up to the present day people have searched for those elusive silver shoes.
I can tell you one thing it was not buried on the site of the corner shop because I went down there each day to watch the excavation works. Neither is it anywhere near Botham’s Hall. In fact there is really only one place left to explore where the old stallion may be at rest.
It should certainly be easier than looking for Shergar so I will leave it with you for now.
Please let me know how you go on.
Thank you for your attention Mr Parabuild.
R. S-S
Text Size for my good friend, George.
