David hey how much

Hey is currently in great shape. His injuries no longer seem to be an issue. He trains for at least an hour 5 days a week, has a good diet, but tells himself he is not averse to a glass of rum.

At the very least, he looks healthy, with a consistent 96kg weight. You may not be sure how he got his body, but his opponent, Fornier, also seems to be healthy. He failed a doping test in Belgium in June and was later banned until December He has been fighting ever since.

He made his debut in April , which is definitely not a big achievement. Only one fight can be expected about real boxing. Your email address will not be published. Hey was able to venture so successfully into family history because he already had a strong reputation in local history and social and economic history. He published highly regarded academic monographs, on village society at Myddle in Shropshire , on the packmen and packhorse roads of Derbyshire and Yorkshire , and on the social and industrial history of Sheffield, The Fiery Blades of Hallamshire They were all focused on the decades around , which he saw as a period of growth in manufactures well before the Industrial Revolution.

Over a span of 30 years, he wrote a dozen local history books on southern Yorkshire, Yorkshire as a whole, Penistone, Sheffield and Derbyshire, most of them covering all periods.

They highlight the visual historical evidence, and contain many images of the landscape, town plans and buildings. The son of George, a coalminer, and Florence nee Batty , Hey was born in the remote hamlet of Catshaw, west of Penistone. His family moved to the town itself when David was 11, and he went to Penistone grammar school.

Although he was strongly attached to Yorkshire, he spent some time in the Midlands, gaining his first degree at the University College of North Staffordshire now Keele University in He returned to teach in Yorkshire schools, and in became a lecturer at Matlock College of Education, Derbyshire. At Matlock he met his future wife, Pat, and they married in He gained an MA and PhD at Leicester University, and spent four years as a research fellow at Leicester, well known as a centre for English local history.

David did his time on the inventories, but does not draw on them here. Now I would be the first to admit that publishers impose word lengths and that an author bringing together a book like this has to prioritise and, from time to time, omit areas for discussion. This section gets slightly lost in accounts of disease and famine. I think that the deserving poor and the way they were treated by their communities deserved a more expansive treatment. This may well give a sense of the compression going on here, but there are two sections which seem very revealing of how David saw local society.

He is interested in those families which did not move, but stayed rooted in the communities over long periods. It is a phenomenon that Angus Winchester has described for the Lake District and it is certainly found in the Yorkshire Dales. Henry French and I found a few instances of the phenomenon in Earls Colne, although not all the long-term landholding families were resident in the village.

I would imagine that most local historians could probably offer instances of successive generations remaining in the same place. But when we turn to the discussion of dialect, David tells us that. The tone and diction of the local accents were distinctive even if the words looked the same in print p.

The core groups of local families were the one who set the patterns to which incomers eventually conformed p. Before the great changes of the modern era, the English nation was composed of hundreds of local societies that had contacts beyond their parish boundaries as far as the nearest market towns, but which remained mostly unaware of the people in distant parts of the realm.

Here David is taking a fairly familiar position on the character of village society and applying it to the pre-industrial period. It is well evidenced by 19th- and early 20th-century observers although normally they described how the village had been to explain how it had changed.

For instance, here is G. Garratt writing in Work, sex, drink, parentage, quarrelling and scandal made up nearly all their interests. A few found consolation in religion and some found relaxation in cricket or going after rabbits with a dog. Few of the Oxfordshire villagers had seen the sea, most of those where I lived had never travelled by train and many lived and died without going five miles from their home.

Yet David was far too good a historian to maintain this view absolutely and offers plenty of contradictory evidence. He knows, and describes, migration, even migration abroad, and acknowledges it to have been a familiar part of society. The drift to London is given appropriate weight. It would be pleasant to argue this out with David, over a pint or several at an Agricultural History Society conference but the opportunity has passed. So all I can do is say that I find it hard to accept the argument David seems to be making for an intense localism and lean much more towards the countervailing evidence which he himself offers.

Parish officeholders were going to the county town on a whole variety of bits and bobs of parish business. People moved around for seasonal work, and even the poor could be mobile although the authorities disliked both the idea and the practice. Wrigley showed many years ago how London sucked young people out of rural England, especially the south, in the 17th century and later: all big towns had a similar effect on their surrounding districts.

Young men followed well-trodden paths from grammar schools to Oxford and Cambridge and college livings. Men were also taken well away from their natal parish by military service, whether on land or sea. Of course, many never came back, but others doubtless spent their dotage in the village alehouse telling of the sights they had seen in France, the Mediterranean, even the Americas or India.

Moreover, the town could come to the countryside. As I have shown in a piece I recently published on Peter Walkden, newspapers could be obtained on loan from alehouses in rural Lancashire in the second quarter of the 18th century.

Of course, one might argue that whilst there were people in the village and countryside who were genuinely men of the world, there were others who were indeed confined to the bounds of the village both in their travels and in their knowledge of the world. It might plausibly be argued that it was richer individuals who had the education and leisure to immerse themselves in religion or politics, who might be drawn on for parish offices and jury service and might have interests — legal, economic — which took them to county towns or even London.