Kentish Express Ashford & District
Stars, Crabzilla and treacle mines
from a visit to Boxley Church, was apparently chased to the “Druid’s Stone” - aka the White Horse Stone - by “a lean grey dog with upstanding ears” which he said “appeared as big as a calf.”
Was it a phantom dog, a playful Irish Wolfhound or something else entirely, such as...
The Great Dogg of Trottiscliffe and other hellish beasts
When is a big cat, not a big cat? When it’s the “Great Dogg of Trottiscliffe”. That’s dogg with two Gs, in case anyone’s in any doubt over the monstrous credentials of this serious beast.
But without wishing to be disparaging to the chroniclers of times gone by, it seems many had trouble identifying basic species; which is maybe why some modern writers such as Susan McGowan in her book The A-Z of Curious Kent - theorise the ‘Great Dogg’ legend of Trottiscliffe actually centred around a big cat.
Originally recorded by
19th century writer Charles Igglesden, in his book
Saunters in Kent, the Great Dogg is said to have attacked and killed travellers on several occassions, but while there are no recorded modern accounts, there are alleged sighting of big cats on the North Downs.
Then again, who’s to say the Great Dogg of Trottiscliffe wasn’t some kind of Hellhound a’la The Hound of the Baskervilles?
Of course, sceptics will suggest most of the so-called “big cats” spotted are actually medium-sized dogs, and it’s fair to say the typical description following a glimpsed sighting of a “big cat” will often describe it as black and “about the size of a Labrador”. Which means they could possibly be Labradors.
If they are, those mischievous escaped Labradors have done an effective job of winding-up villagers along the North Downs and beyond, spawning legends of the Beast of Boxley, the Beast of Blue Bell Hill, and the Sheppey Beast.
And then of course there’s the Hucking Beast, with a name that somehow suggests something less terrifying and monstrous, and more familiar and annoying.
Whatever the origin of these beastly tales, be they black leopards, lynx, Labrador, or Wolfhounds; all these beasts must bow down to ....
TCrabzilla
he King of the Crabs, Captain of the Crustaceans, Supreme Shaman of the Shellfish...
Before Crabzilla scuttled into the lives of the good people of Kent, the idea of a 50-foot crab lurking off the British coast was the stuff of nightmares.
And fortunately it still is, because Crabzilla was a massive hoax - but a magnificent one nonetheless.
It all began back in October 2014 - when a realistic satellite image, appearing to show a massive crab in the sea next to Whitstable Harbour, appeared on supernatural website Weird Whitstable.
According to the website the crab had been spotted by two boys at the popular crabbing spot.
“This shocking image of a giant crab under a popular crabbing spot in Whitstable was taken last weekend,” it added. “The boys were unaware of the danger, but as several passersbys shouted to them, the crab slipped silently away under the water, into the dark, sideways.”
Nonsense, you might say, but it wasn’t long before media coverage of the shocking image went global - which was slightly odd, considering the picture was obviously fake.
Nevertheless, by that time the crab had gained a name, Crabzilla, and earned its place in Kentish folklore - even though Whitstable artist Quinton Winter admitted he’d knocked up the picture using a satellite image and a photo of a common crab.
He’s probably been dining out on the story ever since; which is preferable to
Crabzilla dining out on the population of Whitstable.
If Crabzilla had been real, perhaps he’d turned up in vengeance for ....
The Shell Grotto in Margate
Said to be studded with 4.6 million shells, the
Shell Grotto is an ornate subterranean passageway lying beneath a cottage in Margate - but who made it, why and when?
Now a popular visitor attraction, the Shell Grotto’s website states there are various theories around its nature and origin, but none are conclusive - some preferring to believe it was an ancient temple from antiquity, others suspecting it was a latter-day folly built for amusement.
Whatever the truth, no one of modern times knew about Margate’s shell grotto until an article appeared in the Kentish Mercury on May 9 1838.
It read: “Belle Vue cottage, a detached residence, has lately been purchased by a gentleman, who, having occasion for some alterations, directed the workmen to excavate some few feet, during which operation the work was impeded a large stone, the gentleman being immediately called to the spot, directed a minute examination, which led to the discovery of an extensive grotto, completely studded with shells in curious devices, most elaborately worked up, extending an immense distance in serpentine walks, alcoves, and lanes, the whole forming one of the most curious and interesting sights that can possibly conceived, and must have been executed by torch light. We understand the proprietor intends shortly to open the whole for exhibition, at small charge for admission.”
And they’re still charging for admission.
One thing’s for sure, that gentleman and all who followed must have been surely glad he made those “alterations”, or the Shell Grotto might never have been found at all.
Finally, from the depths of the Shell Grotto, it’s time to don our mountaineering equipment and head of the lofty heights of Romney Marsh, making sure we’ve got the phone number handy for...
Romney Marsh Mountain Rescue team
Are you getting tired of this by now? So are the Romney Marsh Mountain Rescue Team.
Apparently you used to be able to buy T-shirts and other memorabilia from the Romney Marsh Mountain Rescue Team, which created much mirth due to the fact the Marsh is very flat and has not one mountain.
But while there are still a few mentions on Google and a neglected Facebook page, it seems the joke ran its course.
As has this article.