Memoirs

In 1958 there was a village memoirs competition. William “Witty” Whitlock won in Blisworth with his account, which unfortunately is too lengthy to relate here in its entirety.

He was born in 1873, died in 1966 and lived throughout in one house in Stoke Road. His grandfather and father were village carpenters and undertakers and occupied a shop at 43 Stoke Road - see image 30-22. He carried more than a normal debt to his mother, being the only child of nine to survive beyond 6 years – Doctor Knott advised his mother to keep having babies to “keep her goin” despite poor health.

“. . .all my life I seem to have been mixed up with coffins, for after father died I took over the family joinery and undertaking business. I became the Parish sexton later – so, as I say, I christened ‘em, married ‘em and I buried ‘em. I must have made a good job of my funerals for none of ‘em came back to complain . .

“I was the lamp-lighter for 17 years. I had some rare times. I saw all the bits and bobs when it was getting dark and many a time I was bought a pint to keep quiet about what I saw. I lit the lamps early and put them out at ten o'clock. After ten one night, I was coming up from Westley's Mill and then up the Alley [ie. Church Lane]. There was an old lady living opposite the church in High Street. Her name was Mrs Cox and she had got a cade lamb which she took for a walk up to the beech trees in the Alley. As I was going by in the dark this animal butted me and cocked me over - ladder an' all. Why, bless my Soul and Body - when Mrs Cox spoke that frit me more than ever. So I shot up the alley. . . .

[George prompts: one of your favourite stories is about Mrs Wooster's maid at Crieff House . .]
"Oh yes, of course I was getting on a bit and like many more I began to feel my feet. There was a nice little gal there - a maid - and when I had put the light out  [the lamp in 32-04] she peeped over the wall and said "Coming in a minute?" Ah put the ladder against the wall, over I went and down to the kitchen which was a form of cellar. I was soon in conversation [pause] but I thought there was nobody else there except Mrs Wooster at home. But any rate there was a gentleman up there with her - old Mr Roper. Anyway, he copped me down there with the maid - he went back and told Mrs Wooster, "there's a man with your maid"   While he was gone to tell her, Whitlock was out over the wall and to come down the ladder. But the ladder was took away - wallop! I went on my back - that's a fine thing. A voice said "that's buggered you, Whitty"  He was a friend!   I saw the bobby coming so we both disappeared into the night.  I shot up the street. That was an unmanly thing to do to take the ladder away - I was only doing a bit of spoonin.

“As a boy I was fond of a joke and always have been. Many years ago I was sent down to the Rectory to measure a broken privy seat. When done, out comes the fat cook - what are you doing Witty, she says. Well, says I, I’ve just measured the privy seat but now that I’ve seen you, I don’t think I’ve made it big enough.

“At Christmas we went round with the hand-bells. There was nothing sweeter than the sound of them on the cold and frosty nights and Mr. Roper's was supposed to be the last call. We went up there [Hill Fm, Gayton Road] and gave a tune or two and a few light refreshments and we came out a bit wozzle-eyed after an evening of drinking. One year it was dark and I fell in the ivy and lost my hat. Mr Roper found it next morning stuck in the ivy. We went straight home with our handbell and put them back in the church next day.  The trouble was that we had to drink at all the places we called at. We were the ‘worse for wear’ at the close – oh, they were happy times!”

"I had a motto in my young days - Why be miserable on this Earth when I can bury you for 50 shillings. My daily saying now I'm 84 is - Trust in the Lord and keep your bowels open!"

R&A article  Tony Marsh   Apr 05

Whitlock's Bell

Whitlock, I love to hear your bell
Take lead and tell
That God is calling to his own
From the grey stone
of Church and aisle
To come and meet with Him awhile.

Just three score years have fallen white
On Belfry height
Yet with unfaltering step you climb
to check the time,
That all may know
Whether their clock is fast or slow.

Your bell should have a tongue of gold
She oft has told
of Christmas and Eastertide
Christ and his bride
For God to enter at her gates.

One final note - her very soul
Speaks when you toll.
So, William, may we hear at last
When life has past,
God's peace ring out o'er human wrong
This evensong.

Written by the Rev. Howard Ussher (Baptist Minister at Blisworth) when Witty was 60 - ie. 1933.