PREWD'S
PRUNINGS
Being those portions of the Mousehold Press book
'Prewd and Prejudice' deemed too long, short, irrelevant, irregular or downright
irreverent for inclusion in the original publication.
February 1905
Valentine,
Valentice, Valentwine.
1 February,
Wednesday
Sid : Mind you, I have heard
another version of the Feast of Lights story, with a lot more arguing.
In that version the verger said he'd known the ARP bloke since he was a
little boy, and he wasn't going to be told what to do by him.
So the ARP bloke said he'd known him since he was an even littler boy,
and he'd have be told and stay told. And
the verger said he jolly well wouldn't, and the ARP bloke began to shout, and
the verger got all hot under the dog collar, and they'd more than likely have
come to blows if it hadn't been dark by then, so they couldn't see each other to
hit, what with the blackout.
So the verger went to see the vicar, and the ARP bloke went to see his
boss, and they had a meeting. The
vicar insisted they had to have the Feast, and the ARP boss insisted that they
couldn't go traipsing around with lit candles after dark, and before long the
verger and the warden were having to hold them apart.
So the vicar sent for the Bishop, and the ARP boss sent for the Regional
Commander, and they both travelled to the village to sort it all out.
The Bishop did a lot of "My-good man" ing, and the Commander
did a lot of "I'm-not-your-good-man" ing, and before long they were
rolling up their sleeves and being held back by the vicar, the verger, the ARP
warden and his boss, and they were getting nowhere, fast.
Now, this is where Lord Silver-Darling stepped in.
All through the war he was an honorary General in the Mundesley Dark
Infantry. His job was to stay at
home and keep out of danger, what with him being vital for the war effort and
all. Anyhow, he stepped in.
By this time things had calmed down a bit, and the Bishop had apologised
for his bad language, and they were ready to be compromised.
But instead of that, Lord Silver-Darling made a speech.
"It is written in our Parish records", he speeched, "That
since the dark ages there has been something known as a procession of lights,
after dark, at Candlemas. However,
due to the war we cannot have candles showing.
To resolve this dilemma I am prepared to provide processional lights that
will not breach the regulations".
And he was as good as his word, which was "The same again, thank
you". But his method never
really caught on. I mean, when
you've tripped up in the dark and got a face full of pig's lights once, you
aren't in a hurry to do it again, are you?
I prefer that version, now I come to think of it.
It's got more flavour.
3 February, Friday
On my return home I
found Maud in a state of great agitation. "It
just won't decide Mrs Prewd", she fretted.
First it's dull, then it's bright. Then
it's sort of in between. How will we
know if it's going to bark or bite?" I
fear she has been getting more sleep than is good for her, so I set her to
washing the coal for a few hours. If
the devil won't find work for idle hands then I shall.
**********************
If Maud was having
problems with sleep they were those of lack rather than excess.
Although Doyley Silver-Darling had been gone for a fortnight, she had
seen rather a lot of him over the Christmas period.
And most of their meetings had, in the nature of things, been at night.
But she was certainly
not demented. Her talk of it being
dull or bright related to an old weather saying, much quoted in later years by
her brother, Billy:
If Candlemas be clear and bright,
Winter shall have another bite;
If Candlemas be dull and dark,
Winter shall have another bark;
Whether with bite or bark we're cursed,
It's hard to tell which is the worst.
There were many
traditions associated with Candlemas. When
George Carp of Southrepps died in 1738 he left directions that loaves of bread
to the value of 20 shillings were to be given to the poor from his gravestone on
Candlemas Day "forever". The
custom was finally stopped in 1952, after a visit from the Sanitary Inspector.
This set a legal precedent by providing a definition of 'forever' as
being equal to 214 years. The
precedent was upheld a year later in a landmark case in nearby North Walsham:
CROMER VERSUS CROMER
The
case of Miss Cromer versus Mr Cromer ended dramatically today in North Walsham.
Readers will recall that Miss Cromer was suing her cousin for breach of
promise. Her case rested on the
contention that "He was forever promising to marry me".
Mr Perriwig, for the prosecution, held that this constituted a prima
facie case of something or other. Mr
Oddrod, cross examining, asked Miss Cromer whether or not his client had made
such promises for exactly 214 years. She
had to admit that he had not.
Turning
to the court Mr Oddrod quoted the precedent, set last year in Southrepps, that
'forever' meant the period he had stated, and that not only should his client be
dismissed "without a copy on his blotting paper", but that Miss Cromer
was guilty of perjury, and should be locked up forever, or 214 years, whichever
was the longer.
The
judge, Lord Justice Ewelike, accepted his first request but denied the second,
giving everyone present fourteen days, with costs.
The Trunch Trumpet, October 16th 1953
It is easy to see why
British justice is feared the world over.
8 February,
Wednesday
(regarding
Augustus Swineherd and the Blue Monks)
Augustus Swineherd did
write a book about the monks, but as he knew so little about them it was a work
of fiction, rather than fact. It was
also heavily influenced by their Trunch Punch, to which he had become addicted,
such was his enthusiasm for research.
He submitted it to his
publishers, but they didn't like it, and had it re-written in a more popular
form. Thus, I would argue, 'Fourth
Form At St. Justs' bears no relation to the events in this book at all.
But you must judge that for yourself:
Bartholomew was a new brother, and hadn't got to know his new chums yet.
He was a shy boy, and just couldn't bring himself to ask any of the other
chaps about life at St. Justs. He
had already missed four meals, and hadn't had a clean handkerchief for a week,
before he decided that he just had to speak to someone.
He screwed up his courage all morning, until he finally found the nerve
to go up to one of the big boys. He
coughed nervously, and then he did it.
"Can you tell me the way to the toilets, please sir", he said.
All he got for his pains was a withering look.
It was almost as if the older boy had taken some sort of vow of silence.
Bartholomew didn't think he was gong to like life at St Justs.
The monks were lucky
for Swineherd in the end, however, as the book became a schoolboy best-seller
and kept him in Punch for the rest of his life.
12 February, Sunday
Sid Kipper maintains
that in his youth any number of girls in the area needed little encouragement to
part with their underwear, which may be the source of the saying from further
afield "The women of St Just wear no knickers".
This is clearly a misunderstanding of the practice, since the underwear
sent would not normally be in current use. The
custom was known as 'panting', after the hoped for reaction of the recipient.
The name was, over the years, transferred to the garments themselves,
which became known as 'tings'.
In
North Walsham, in the High Street, where the shops all stand in line,
By
the cobblers, I was caught there, by a girl so sweet and fine;
On
the 14th, February, came a parcel tied with twine;
Great
sensation, combinations, on the flap her name was signed.
Oh me darling, oh me darling, oh me darling Valentine;
You have lost your coms forever, dreadful sorry, Valentine.
from
'By The Cobblers'
25 February,
Saturday
The wedding of the
carter to the school mistress was one which went on to live in local memory.
The carter's father
'Ten-Ton' Tunny, was well enough respected in St Just-near-Trunch.
This was partly because anyone who failed to respect him well enough was
liable to feel the weight of his fist (about 15 ounces) until they did.
So when the invitations were shouted out by the town crier, no-one dared
but shout back their acceptance. The
whole village turned out for the reception, which was held in the hall of the
Union of Sweedbashers and Allied Trades. They
came bearing gifts, victuals, and in the case of Mrs 'Chippy' Friar, bearing a
baby boy of six pounds and seven ounces in the committee room.
And what a night it was, by all accounts.
Certainly by the account handed to 'Ten-Ton' by the bar steward the next
day.
Sid: That was the best
wedding reception anyone can remember. Of
course, some say that the one for Gilbert Silver-Darling, which went on for four
days, was better, but nobody can remember that one.
Anyhow, the bride and groom were given a great reception.
Everyone who was anyone was there. And
some people who were nobody. Plus
Billy and Sarah, my grandparents.
They had everything at that do. They
had food. They had drink.
They had more drink. Eventually
the drink began to tell, and it told them to play a few tunes.
First off Skip Smith played 'The Blackbird', but some nature lovers put a
stop to that, so he played the malodian instead.
And soon they were all at it. There
were fuddles, and bangos, all playing together.
Well, they were all playing at the same time, which isn't necessarily the
same thing. They played all the old
favourites, like 'Cocks March To The Maiden', 'Strip The Widow', 'Soldiers'
Joyce'. All of them.
They played one which grandfather didn't know, so he asked someone what
it was. It turned out they were
playing 'Silly Buggers'.
This went on till the Bar Steward said they had to go.
He reckoned that as he hadn't
got an extension he could fill no more glasses.
That was because by now they were all lying on the floor, and the beer
tap wouldn't reach. So off they all
crawled to 'Ten-Ton''s house for a night cap, even though they looked daft in
it. And the bride and groom lived
happily ever after.