Chapter 5 1851, end of April Wednesday I find it easier if you can talk. Our neighbours, Old John Reynolds and Ann have been a great help. They have both been happy to let me open up. They listen patiently, puffing on their pipes, sharing an encouraging word sometimes. Old John can’t hear much and Old Ann can’t see much on account of the lace. Together they get on well. A good team. It has been a funny old year. Twelve-month past, one of the blackest times ever. Back then it was very difficult for the wife and me to discuss things, even the little things. Funny thing was, the both of us seemed to take it in turns, at different times, chattering over the gate; me with Old John and the wife with Ann. After a time, this gave the two of us something to talk about and to perhaps forget the passing of the lad for a few moments. I would tell the wife the tales John told me from visiting the Stars. In exchange, she would tell me talk among the womenfolk. We had some worrying months after that. Always the excitement. Always the fear. Never knowing. The little girl came just before Christmas. Snow were on the ground. It was the night the carol singers knocked on the door. Heard them coming up from Lower End. I looked out and saw them coming with their lanterns. They’d clearly had a few already. Probably a few more to follow around the fire and the famous mince pies when they arrived at the last farm. Old Sarah was with the wife of course, just in case. The most beautiful baby ever. Popped out right in the middle of Hark the Herald! It was a special day, the baptism. Around the font again. Vicar Cleobury, the boys, friends, Old Henry and Phoebe, John and Ann. We gave her Violet, Rose. Seems exactly right. The names that we would have given to the twin girls a good while ago, had they made it to the font. The sun shone as we left St Nicks’, down the church path and then down the lane. Must have taken us an hour to get home, everyone keen to see young Petal, as we have taken to calling her of late. The snow melting where our footprints traced our path, down the lane, close to the brook. The wife’s dream has come true, mine too, to be honest. A little girl after all this time. The wife says she has brought some sunshine into our lives. We still miss the lad of course, especially his older brother. He still won’t say much about him. Growing up and keen to be a man. It were Old Henry that suggested that I should get back to writing the diary. Don’t know how he found out about me writing. I don’t like to tell anybody about it. It’s a personal thing. Folk say you cannot keep anything from Old Henry. He kept me informed of most news in the village during these past twelve month. I haven’t once visited The Stars and have kept indoors most of the time. I missed Young Tom Gibbons’ telling last autumn, next to the post. Old Jim said there was a good crowd. Henry said it were the “same old, same old”: Pyder, his unicorns, telling the truth, Vicar of Oakley hoorah! One new thing though. He told of a tiny cottage, perhaps more a hovel than a cottage, in Ludgershall, close to their brook. This cottage is tiny, but much bigger inside. Old Jim reckoned his cottage is tiny and even smaller inside! Strangest thing is, this one in Ludgershall, sometimes it is there and you can see it, sometimes not! He said he wasn’t sure who lived in it. Perhaps a baker or a doctor. Apparently, Old Jim was not for walking all the way to Ludgershall just on the off chance of seeing it. And another tale that Young Tom told, of folk who, by choice, didn’t eat meat! This caused great laughter amongst the gathering. All except Old Henry. Had some rain these past two days, first time in a long time. Reminds me a bit of last year, although Bill Elliot reckons that last April was a terrible month. Never stopped raining and we didn’t see the sun once. The vegetables certainly need the rain this year. The broad beans had started to flower but have been flagging a bit with the heat. The rain has perked them up. Yesterday found a half of a small blue egg next to the patch. Another one this morning. Will save them for when Old Zachary next appears. Nearly forgot. Old Jim’s cock a hoop. His young wife Sarah is about to give him another child. Should come in the middle of hay time. He reckons at 77 there is life in the old dog yet and everyone should have a go with a new wife when they get to his age! He said that not many in the village get to see their kids playing alongside their great grandchildren. Thursday May Day! Something has been a nibbling of the new pea shoots. No sign of deer print. Could be slugs or oddydods. Old Jim says he can remember May Day in the old days, when the village didn’t have so many kids all the spot over. He says they had a Maypole then, where the Telling Post is now. It used to be a well organised event with the children obeying strict commands issued by the old Vicar’s wife. This was in the days of the Old Vicarage, close to St Nicks’. The vicar’s wife used to have the girls train there on a Monday night after they returned from the fields and the boys of a Tuesday night. He recalls that more turned up on Wednesday night when the idea was that the boys and girls skipped around each other going in different directions. These rehearsal nights, as the vicar’s wife called them, were undertaken without music. And by Juggins, instead of ribbons, he says, they were supposed to hold up what she called our “kurcheefs!” Apparently, only a few of the girls had these. He smiled when he told of some of the girls and some of the boys having old rags. The vicar’s wife called them disgusting things and told them never to take them out of their pockets when they were anywhere near the vicarage. He said that she used to cut up the Vicar's old shirts and this way they had a new rag once a year. Old Jim is fond of telling us that he was keen on the Maypole as it was a chance to dance close to some of the pretty girls that would normally run away from him. Today he had us all in fits with his tale of the very last Maypole dancing when things got a bit out of hand on account of some sheep getting out of the field and getting mixed up with proceedings. He had difficulty containing himself when describing how half of the boys let go of their ribbons and started to round up the sheep. The other half stood still to watch the sheep tackling, with the musicians doubled up in laughter. He said that the girls carried on until the sheep turned round and tried to join in the dancing. He can remember the old Vicar’s wife hiding her embarrassment in one of her much-practised swoons. He told us of receiving reports from the vicarage the following day of her having had an attack of the vapours. Apparently, the old Vicar banned the Maypole then. Or perhaps it was the Vicar’s wife that did the banning and the Vicar just did what he was told. The tale is that the old pole was chopped up for logs to keep the Vicar and his wife warm of a night. Today’s event followed the new rules issued from the vicarage a good few years back. The kids were told no dancing, no skipping, holding hands nicely, smile at everyone and no picking of noses. Margretta took charge again. The Mayday procession was supposed to cover the whole village and beat the bounds. This year Cowleys was missed out for the first time on account of kids previously returning after dark. The big parade started down Lower End and set off for a tour of the parish. The May Garland at the front, this year carried by Emma Marlow, one of Taylor Johns daughters, and young George Parrot. Joshua and Joseph Turvey, two biggish lads, carrying a lamb a ‘piece just behind. All the littluns, two by two, following on. Most carried bunches of flowers raised above their heads. The boys were somewhat embarrassed by this and tended to hide them behind their backs when Margretta was out of sight. Some of the stragglers, including young Thomas Elliot and little Fanny, were at the tail without flowers. They took every chance to pick mayflowers from aside the brook, running to catch up when they could. The grown-ups stood and watched from their gates until the parade passed. The women folk then followed on behind as is the custom. It was a long parade as usual given all the littluns. As the parade continued, the pace quickened and the paces grew longer. As soon as the parade reached the vicarage, the race began. Nobody wanted to be the last one up Muzzle. Friday We got some new weaners a few weeks back. Haven’t named them yet. Last pair saw us through to Easter just about. We kept little Snort till last. Finished off Plopper by Christmas. Had a discussion with Old Jim again this evening, leaning over his sty. He has two weaners as well, Promise and Plenty. Always the same names every year. Promise is always the first to leave the sty. When Promise’s last ham is hanging by the grate, he likes to think he still has Plenty left. He thinks folk shouldn’t grow too attached to animals. They all end up looking at you from your plate! He thinks that he made this into a rhyme a while back and now he can’t remember it. He has become a good friend these last twelve months. He is fond of telling me that there are two Jim Parkers. The one that likes to act the fool and have a joke and the serious Jim Parker. My reply is that they had better dig two graves then when the time comes. Aside from his strutting and crowing about being a young father again, he has been recounting how he has tried to cope with losing the littluns as well. All of us remember just five years back, him and Sarah losing both Emma, a tiny tot, and then little William just three months later. He said that when we have a chance to properly chew the cud, he will tell me about his young brother and sister. Not ever knowing them, and the littluns that were taken too soon after his first marriage to Mary. He likes to be known as Squire Jim, or at least Farmer Jim, on account of his great estate within the village. He prefers Squire Jim, as he knows that he has become a bit of a legend in the parish when it comes to the virility braggings in the Stars. He was telling me that he is expecting several new lambs this year on his farm just below the hill. He thought he might need a hand with his flock next week. I told him that I would be very pleased to help. We all like to encourage Old Jim with his imaginings of his great husbandry. He doesn’t like to see people tearing about with no time to stop, no time to listen to others. Thinks folk should be on their guard for the French coming back. He is expecting them to make their way up the Brook. I asked Old John how he is coping with the state of their thatch. He told me that he can’t really grumble. It is only a problem when it rains and perhaps the day after it stops. The water only comes through badly on Ann’s side of the bed. They have six buckets on the bedroom floor. He said he is spoilt for choice when he needs to get up in the middle of the night. He did laugh when I asked him if his landlord might think of patching the roof. Old Henry has got himself a new son-in-law. That John Wallington was made to wait until Ruth turned eighteen last winter. They are both living with Henry and Phoebe above the butcher’s shop. Henry seems happy with the arrangement as he has now got his own cattle and sheep dealer living under his roof. Perhaps I’ll go to the Stars Saturday night. First time in ages. Old Henry reckons the whole Brown family, every last one of them, are planning to take off for London for a week. The whole village is in a bit of a stir. Sources and Inspirations Carol Singers Long may the tradition continue! Old Jim Parker All validated facts, still unbelievable! May Day A Thursday in 1851. Sorry, Old Jim went on a bit and I am not too sure of his memory. Scenes from the cine film showing the May garland being carried around the village By Juggins! A phrase Jim’s father would perhaps use quite a bit. Very Old Jim Parker’s mother-in-law lived in Brill in the first half of the 18th century. Her name was Isobel Juggins! “Kurchheefs” The term kerchief was in common use at this time. The term “handkerchief” not generally used until later. I initially had some of the boys with their best snot rags. Unfortunately, there is no record of that phrase being used until 1885. Maypole I would like to think that the village maypole was brought back into the village at some time. Phil Jones can remember dancing around one in the school yard. I expect there are a few others who can remember this. Time for a reunion? Emma Marlow carrying the garland. The same Emma Marlow we saw in Chapter 1 sitting in the pew at the Easter Sunday church service: Tailor John Marlow, his wife Sarah and his five daughters. Emma was the third daughter, two sisters to her left, two to her right. She didn’t know on that day that one of her descendants would one day play something called a church organ in that church. Emma Marlow, Betty Newell’s Great Great Grandmother. See more information in “Author’s Notes” The conversation with the “two Jim Parkers”. A regular conversation I had with Old Billy Parker. More information about Old Jim’s family, farm and estate next week. Author's Notes “Taking stock” doesn’t seem to have worked. A week ago I nearly had plan of research and story lines that I wanted to follow. This plan was blown out of the water by two things that I have found fascinating, time consuming and (perhaps it is just me), almost magical. Firstly, the wonderful conversations I have been having with Betty Newell about her family and her recollections of her life at “The Laurels,” and her grandparents at “The Browns” (Browns Piece) and Old Granny Marlow. Tracing her family tree and starting to see how this tree is shared by so many families in the parish, many of them recent and current residents. Being able to talk to Betty about her “Granny Marlow’s Granny Marlow” and her sisters and parents – priceless! In approaching this subject, I described John Marlow, the village tailor in the 1850’s. Her initial response was “No, we never had any doings with the Taylor family!” Secondly, the small mention by Graham Burchell, of one of the old field names. (More of the map and old field names to come before too long, I hope). This led to a major expedition into Old Jim Parker’s life, his marriages, his parents and family. I picked out Old Jim when writing Chapter 1. All I needed was an old labourer to accompany the author and younger folk to get some work at Gravel Pitts Farm. Little did I know of his life a couple of weeks ago. He and his family deserve a book just to themselves. Perhaps I would have found something similar had I chosen any other old labourer from the 1851 Piddington census. There might be a moral there? This week I hope to have a good look at Old Jim’s farm, just below the hill. After all, I must help him with his late lambing next week! Old Jim will feature again in the next chapter and then perhaps sit a while on the substitutes’ bench. There are so many intriguing relationships to explore: The Jordan family, the Walkers, Billy Bottle (I tripped over some of his relations in Launton this week), the Turveys and the Turrells haven’t had a look in yet. Who can resist knowing more about the Dumbletons? Sorry, not sure if I have introduced them yet. Trying to remember what I have written in the diary and trying to distinguish between conversations I have retold and those that are still going around in my head. I try to keep track of upcoming marriages and other visits to St Nicks. I tend to have seven or eight documents open at any one time when I am writing. Baptisms, burials, Close to the Brook, several to-do lists, dictionaries of old agricultural terms, web searches of “when was the phrase…. first used”, 1841 – 1861 census lists etc.. This week Mario sourced me a new super wide screen monitor. So much easier on the eyes and I may also get a suntan! I am feeling very comfortable with writing the diary and enjoying it. This is despite having never written a diary before. I can’t remember handing an essay in on time. The closest to it may have been the odd business development strategy or submissions to the Monopolies and Mergers Commission. I have decided that it is best not to have too much of a plan. The diary will, at least for the time being, be driven by what happens here in the village now, day by day. So many things are going on in the village with people happily digging into the past. Some missions have been delayed by the weather. A couple of people avoiding going past our house and hoping that I have forgotten about their missions. Young Heather has come up trumps with a treasure trove of information. For the time being I am asking her to let me see just one little bit at a time because I don’t want to have too many distractions. I spent one evening laughing at the 1920’s tenders from various coal merchants attempting to win the contract to supply Piddington’s coal charity. Old Zachary’s best mate, who now goes by the name of “The Yaffler”, is fascinated by the Gravel Copse. He is limbering up to set forth exploring. He told me that we need more murders and sex! Not sure if he was referring to the diary or if he has anyone in Lower End in mind. I have hopefully set Mrs Yaffler off in search of “Tales from the Chapel”. One young lady of the Parish was delighted to read about all the little parrot markings around the village and wanted to know why no one had told her about them before. She also said she enjoys reading the “Author’s Notes” as much as the diary. I visited John Bell’s garden the other day. He was undertaking some delicate restorations of some of his dining room chairs with an exceptionally large hammer. I had been delighted to get him on board a couple of weeks ago with a mission that was right up his street. He told me that he hadn’t forgotten but please could I remind him of what he had agreed to do! Maybe another reminder next week. Thinking of Bells, I asked Young Morwen about the Church Bells and there being only three in 1850. We discussed the Bicester bell foundry, the repaired bell and the new bells at the end of the 19th century etc.. I thought it would make a short piece in the diary. You know Morwen, she never does anything by half. Must be working on her magnum opus. I hope that her family are being fed. Having failed, when trying to walk up the village, to get past the Weaver’s stereo assault of ghosts and murders on one side of the road and locomotives and train stations on the other, I may have done something that I will live to regret. At the time I thought it might be best to try to contain and somehow channel their enthusiasm. The following exchange of emails followed. Hi David. Delighted to be asked to catalogue ghosts and goulies including associated murders . As an aside, I am sure you have heard of the Piddington Cartulary? It's available to browse free online. Quite a lot in Latin and refers to Joan of Piddington. But C doesn't think you are concerned with that far back. Have a nice evening. All the best Yvonne Thank you, Yvonne, and thank you for your mobile number. I will put this on speed dial under M for Murder Squad. I really appreciate your enthusiasm. I hope you don’t mind if I try to channel your enthusiasm in a certain direction. I note that you have already rearranged your role description. I would like to think that you will focus on murders, unexplained and bizarre deaths and that ghosts and ghoulies may or not follow on. I do appreciate that you do find it difficult to “put a good ghost down!” I am sure you can approach these events in any sequence you like. I would like to be able to weave them in to closetothebrook in date sequence:
Thank you for the note on the Piddington Cartulary. It is a long time since I last looked and will revisit. Yes, Chris is right as well. My focus in this initiative is the 19th Century for now. This weekend’s update has just been released. You could be the first in the village to read it if you set your alarm clock! Roger and Out! Dear Boss Man I haven't rearranged anything. Just didn't know what to refer to. Please don't worry, I won't be yacking on. Haven't got the time. Hope your venture is successful and I be a minute part of glorification . Yours Yvonne W. Not sure what to do about Chris for the time being. I am still getting the odd photograph of old locomotives and stations in my inbox. I hope he is happy cooling his buffers for a while. David Cook 3rd May 2020 |