Old Lad

I’ve been spending a week away in a cottage in North Yorkshire. It’s very relaxing with lots of time to read and muse on life. There’s a good local brewery nearby which also helps! For some reason I have had lots of thoughts about childhood and in particular the local characters that were about. I don’t know about you but we don’t seem to have these people any more, partly I suspect because we seem to be in an age of deep suspicion where any odd behaviour is seen as a threat. But when I was growing up we had these odd harmless people that as a child were just part of the fabric of small town life.

We also had characters who did provoke anxiety, none more so than the “School Board Man”. His proper title was a School Attendance Officer and his job was to seek out truants and return them to school. In my case this role fell to Mr Brimelow who would be a familiar figure around town. A tall man with what you might call a military bearing, an ex policeman, always accompanied by his dog called Trigger, and wearing a long overcoat. Exactly what he did with truants I never found out but the threat was often voiced that if you didn’t go to school Mr Brimelow would come for you!

Another character who remains in my memory is Billy who wandered around. Looking back he was a person who would now be described as having learning difficulties but Billy unfortunately was also deaf. This meant that he would shout loudly when he spoke. To children this was unnerving and although Billy was affable and tried to be sociable, we would often hide if we saw him coming.

There were also characters who were regarded with awe by us children. None more so than the man who drove the local steam roller! Our town had its own highways department respond for road maintenance and as far as I know had one road roller. The man who drove it – and as I recall always wore brown corduroy overalls – was a figure of envy to us little boys. We would all gather if tarmac was being laid just to watch the roller desperate to have a ride on it. We never did. On the subject of tarmac there was also the strange belief that if you were chesty it would help for you to be taken where fresh tarmac was being laid an inhale the fumes! We also had a greengrocer lorry that came round twice a week selling fresh fruit and vegetables. This would be followed by children just in case the occasional apple or orange fell off it. The greengrocer also shouted to announce his arrival with a phrase to my child’s ears sound like “Terry ayup “ , which looking back was probably a version of potatoes. But for a long time I knew this man as “ Terry Ayup”! Another memory is the Salvation Army band who would appear in your road and play stirring brass music – alas sadly gone now.

I am a regular reader of The Oldie magazine – worth a read if you haven’t tried it. Recently they had an article about the decline of whistling, which when you think about it is true. When I was growing up lots of people would whistle while they worked – the postman, the milkman, the man who swept the streets, builders, joiners , everybody. Now you are more likely to hear a radio blaring. Strangely though I still find myself whistling quietly if I concentrating on a task . Perhaps that’s another feature of being an Old Lad. It’s probably worth a bit of research. Do you whistle while you work?