Dame Hilda:  The musical life of Stacton Tressel, if not exactly rich, is certainly varied and frequently outre. Last week, for example, there was a town hall concert devoted to works by Beethoven and Gluck, arranged for Spanish guitar, chinese blocks, nose-flute and spoons. The musical appreciation society recently sponsored two talks, respectively titled the pentatonic scale in Irish folk music, that ended up in a fight. And falsetto singing without recourse to artificial aids, that ended up in some confusion. But, as Evadne, says, the town's greatest musical asset remains undisputed, it's us. And she's not the only one with that opinion, it’s mine as well. Our music emporium goes from strength to strength, and we recently attended an auction sale to buy new stock. Though, Evadne, seemed less than happy with the box of bric a brac with which we returned.

{Emporium.}

Dr. Hinge: It's nothing but a load of rubbish, Hilda.

Dame Hilda: You wouldn't say that if you had bought it.

Dr. Hinge: I wouldn't have bought it.

Dame Hilda: Evadne, what earthly purpose is served by us standing round the emporium, looking at something we've just bought, arguing about which one of us wouldn't have bought it if the other one hadn't.

Dr. Hinge: You should never have waved at that auctioneer, Hilda.

Dame Hilda: Well, I could hardly ignore him, dear.

Dr. Hinge: Well, you had up till then.

Dame Hilda: Well, I knew that I'd seen him somewhere before, and then suddenly, I remembered where it was. He played Baba Mustafa in the operatic society's production of Chu Chin Chow last year, remember?

Dr. Hinge: Perfectly.

Dame Hilda: He was a wonderful Baba Mustafa. He sang the cobblers song absolutely beautifully. I mean, I've seen a lot of cobblers in my time. But there... I doubt if I'll ever see the like of it again.

Dr. Hinge: Still, no need to wave at him, Hilda.

Dame Hilda: I didn't wave, dear. I mean, not really. I simply raised my hand and wiggled a few fingers.

Dr. Hinge: It would have been better if you'd stood on a soapbox, stuck your arm in the air and shouted, Cooee! At least that couldn't have been mistaken for a bid.

Dame Hilda: Oh, don't make such a fuss. It was only a few pounds, and the tea chest itself will come in handy.

Dr. Hinge: For what?

Dame Hilda: Oh, we could keep tea in it.

Dr. Hinge: You bought a pig in a poke, and you'd know it.

Dame Hilda: And what if I have? We haven't got one, have we?

Dr. Hinge: Have a look and see what's in it then.

Dame Hilda: Very well then. And you'll be surprised. You mark my words, you just see if you're not. Oh, yes. Oh, I can see something here that's going to be a big surprise to you for a start.

Dr. Hinge: What's that?

Dame Hilda: A boomerang.

Dr. Hinge: Hilda, what in heaven's name are we going to do with a boomerang? And don't say  throw it and wait for it to come back.

Dame Hilda: Well, in that case, I don't know what we're going to do with it. Oh, but here's something you can wear while you're thinking about it. Look, it's one of those hats with cork's hanging off all round it. Now, come on, try it on.

Dr. Hinge: Certainly not.

Dame Hilda: All right, please yourself. Of course, things Australian don't hold such warm and special memories for you as they do for me, do they, dear? You know I can look at that old hat and that old boomerang. And I'm immediately transported straight back to the summer of 1952 and Digger Carew!

Dr. Hinge: Oh, God!

Dame Hilda: Remember Digger Carew, do you?

Dr. Hinge:  I should jolly well think I do. I remember him turning up at the Opera House in Harrogate to see Aida with a bear mug hanging from his belt.

Dame Hilda: Well, the Australians are very free and easy, Evadne.

Dr. Hinge:  I am quite sure, Hilda, that even Australians do not normally hang bear mugs from their belts when they're wearing full evening dress.

Dame Hilda: Well, Digger was a bit of a wild one, wasn't he? So exuberantly masculine. Mind, he was always the perfect gentleman where I was concerned. He used to treat me like a princess.

Dr. Hinge: What did he do, dear? Wipe the neck of the beer bottle with his hand and then stick a straw in it before he passed it to you?

Dame Hilda: Oh, I know you didn't take to him, dear, no, but he was such a clever boy. And I really did open his eyes to music, you know, because by the time he returned to Australia, he could play selections from the ring cycle on his didgeridoo. I should think by now he's probably director of the Sydney Opera House. Oh, dear. Do you know this has brought it all back? Whatever happened to Digger and 1952?

Dr. Hinge: One can only hope that dear Digger dug himself a deep hole and jumped into it. Is that all that's in that box? I mean, it doesn't seem a lot for £20, does it?

Dame Hilda: Well, of course it's not all, Evadne, There's a whole lot of music. Oh, and what's this? Oh, it's a little figurine, isn't that nice?

Dr. Hinge: Let me see.

Dame Hilda: It's hand carved by the look of it,

Dr. Hinge: Hmm, filthy dirty. I think it's coral.

Dame Hilda: It's probably one of those aboriginal fertility things. You know, you rub it and it rains.

Dr. Hinge: No, the style of the carving is definitely European.

Dame Hilda: Well, then perhaps you rub it and it clears up.

Dr. Hinge: Pass me that duster Hilda? I'll see if I can get some of this dirt off.

Dame Hilda: Very well, here you are.  I say, Evadne, get down.

Dr. Hinge: Why?

Dame Hilda: Get down, dear, get down.

Dr. Hinge: Hilda, will you please get up off the floor and stop pulling at my skirt? What's come over you, rabies?

Dame Hilda: That man across the road there, wearing the raincoat. The one standing on the curb. Can you see him?

Dr. Hinge: If he's doing what I think he's doing, I'm not going to look.

Dame Hilda:  No, no, no, dear. It's that awful little Welshman. Do you remember? He wanted to buy my harp and I wouldn't sell it. And he said he'd get it in the end and I said he wouldn't. And he said he'd be back. Well, he is. Get down, Evadne. Standing there like a stork on a chimney stack. I don't want him to see us.

Dr. Hinge: He's already seen us, Hilda.

Dame Hilda: What's he doing?

Dr. Hinge: Well, looking some what bemused, he's probably wondering why you're down your knees on the floor pulling at my skirt.

Dame Hilda: I wonder if he'd notice if I crawl to the door and put the closed sign on.

Dr. Hinge:  I wouldn't risk it, dear. He might get down on all fours and crawl to meet you. And you  know the Welsh. They are whimsical!

Dame Hilda: What are we going to do then?

Dr. Hinge: I don't know what you're worried about, Hilda. The harp isn't here anywhere. It's at home, isn't it?

Dame Hilda: Yes, but you know him. He'll probably smooth talk me into trotting off home and humping it down in my back. He has a honey tongue and a heart of gall and I don't like his Adam's apple.

Dr. Hinge: There is no need to work yourself into a froth, dear. He's going on.

Dame Hilda: He's what?

Dr. Hinge: He's walking on.

Dame Hilda: Fancy! Coming all the way here from Llanfairfechan. And not dropping in to say hello.

Dr. Hinge: And does he come from Llanfairfechan?

Dame Hilda: Well, somewhere around that way, doesn't he, dear,? It's Wales. Good heavens, he's back, down, Evadne, get down.

Maud: Good morning, Doctor, goo... well, where’s she gone? She's were ‘ere, when I peeked in,

Dr. Hinge: she's down behind the counter Maud, hiding.

Maud: ‘ave I done something to upset ‘er?

Dr. Hinge: Not unless you've got a friend from Llanfairfechan.

Dame Hilda: Morning, Maud dear.

Maud: Oh, there you are, Dame ‘ilda.

Dame Hilda: And what can we do for you, dear?

Maud: You don't ‘appen to ‘ave a puncture outfit ‘andy, do you?

Dr. Hinge: This is a music emporium Maud, not a bicycle repair shop.

Maud: It ain't a furniture shop, neither, Doctor, but I notice you've got a chair.

Dame Hilda: Yes, that's perfectly true, Maud, dear. And were there a demand for it? I'm sure we'd have a puncture outfit as well. But I'm afraid there isn't, so we don't. What's happened?

Maud: Well, I've got a puncture.

Dr. Hinge: We guessed that much.

Maud: That road works up the top there. Do you know they've covered the ‘ole road in broken glass?

Dame Hilda: Well, you know the council, dear. They're always doing something silly. It's probably cheaper than tarmac.

Dr. Hinge: I would have thought that even you, Maud, would have sufficient sense not to ride down a road that was covered in broken glass.

Maud: When I turned into that road, Doctor, that broken glass was still a greenhouse.

Dr. Hinge:  Oh, I see.

Dame Hilda: Now we're beginning to get somewhere.

Maud: As I turned in, there were this man waving, you see.

Dame Hilda: Waving, dear?

Maud: Well, I thought ‘e were waving at the time, Dame ‘ilda. Though I ‘as to admit ‘e ‘ad a pickaxe in ‘is ‘and. And ‘is language were none too savoury.

Dame Hilda: That sounds like the chairman of the highways committee, doesn't it, Evadne?

Dr. Hinge: Not if he was working, dear, no.

Maud: Anyhow, I waves back, you see, and I rides on by. And that's when all the shouting starts. “Watch where you're going and what the ‘ell do you think you're doing?” And one or two other things, not quite so polite. And I looks down and me wheels started to wobble. Now I don't know whether you've ever ridden down one of them great ‘igh piles of chippings on a bike.

Dame Hilda: No, dear, I haven’t as a matter of fact.

Maud: Well, I ‘ave. And I comes down on the other side of that pile of chippings like a bullet out of a gun. And then I seed it right in front of me.

Dame Hilda: What?

Maud: A great wide trench dug right across the road, damn stupid place to dig it. And across it were just one narrow plank. So I grips me ‘andlebars and I grits me teeth. And wishing I'd ‘ad me brakes done after all. I steers right for it. And across I flies.

Dame Hilda: She can certainly keep her head, can't she, Evadne?

Dr. Hinge: She certainly can as far as I'm concerned.

Maud: Well, I reckon I must ‘ave been doing a good 30 when I passed over that plank. So it's ‘ardly surprising I didn't see that man's fingers, is it?

Dame Hilda: What man’s fingers, Maud?

Maud: Well, you’ll not credit it, Dame ‘ilder, but there were a man stood down in that trench with ‘is ‘ands, ‘olding up the plank from either side.

Dame Hilda:  You mean swinging on it?

Dr. Hinge: Oh, don't be silly, Hilda. They were probably about to move it.

Maud: ‘e were a great big strapping fella, that man in the trench and yet ‘e let out such a yell as I rode over his fingers.

Dame Hilda: They’re such sensitive things really, aren't they fingers?

Maud: Well, it were ‘im yelling, ‘as made ‘is mate drop ‘is hot tar down inside ‘is boot. Made the crane driver swing ‘is crane right round. And ‘e never noticing that ‘ouse

Dr. Hinge: House, Maud?

Maud: Ah, the one ‘e demolished when ‘e ‘it it, with ‘is crane. Oh, by this time, there was quite a little crowd gathered, you see.

Dame Hilda: Several of them homeless by the sound of it!

Maud: I were face to face with the steam roller. I see that driver winding ‘is wheel like ‘is life depended on it. And it was ’is fault that I fell off.

Dr. Hinge: You hit him, did you, Maud?

Maud: No, I didn't, Doctor. I wove me way round ‘im, but I ‘eard the crash as ‘e ‘it the greenhouse and turned round to ave a look. And that was ‘ow I first found out that that road was supposed to be closed.

Dame Hilda: Well, how was that, dear?

Maud: Well, I ‘it the back of the road closed sign at the far end.

Dr. Hinge: And what exactly was it then that punctured your tyre Maud? The broken glass, riding over the chippings, the encounter with the steam roller or hitting the sign?

Maud: It were none of them, Doctor. It was the man the sign fell on. ‘e picked up a fork and ‘e plunged it in. And the front wheel just went, Paff! Well, I suppose I best be pushing off.

Dame Hilda: But you've got no choice really, dear, have you?

Dr. Hinge: And if you'll take my advice Maud, I should go home by a different route. They're probably lying in wait for you, forks at the ready.

Maud: Well, all I can say is it's ‘ardly surprising the motorways is in the state they are. If it's the likes of them as builds ‘em. Talk about Fred Karno’s army.

Dame Hilda: You know, I tell you what, Evadne. While she was here, you should have asked her to clean up that little figurine, you're also energetically polishing.

Dr. Hinge: Don't be silly, Hilda. I wouldn't trust her to clean Nelson's column. Anyway the grimes coming off, gradually.

Dame Hilda: I say, Evadne?

Dr. Hinge:  What?

Dame Hilda: Get down.

Dr. Hinge: Oh, not again.

Dame Hilda: Get down, get down, he's back.

Dr. Hinge: Hilda, do stop pulling, you'll have my skirt off if you're not careful.

Dame Hilda: What's he doing? Can you see?

Dr. Hinge: He's walking along the other side of the road in a perfectly normal manner, with a carrier bag in one hand and a newspaper in the other.

Dame Hilda: Ah, it's what they call psychological warfare.

Dr. Hinge: I always imagined that was rather more complicated, Hilda.

Dame Hilda: He'll keep on walking by, first one way, then the other, at intervals. And each time with a different object in his hand, a library book, a tennis racket, a banana. Well, he needn’t think he's going to rattle me, no matter what he has in his hand, next time he goes by!

Dr. Hinge: Hilda, why don't you just get up off the floor? I'll call a cab, and then we'll shut the shop and go home.

Dame Hilda: Wouldn't that be running away, then?

Dr. Hinge: Well, in a word, yes.

Dame Hilda: Let's do it, and fast.

{Drawing room.}

Dame Hilda: You know, Evadne, if that harp, were ever to go from here, this room would really lose something, wouldn't it?

Dr. Hinge: Yes, dear, an obstacle. Still, the figurine's going to be nice on the mantelpiece when I finish cleaning it.

Dame Hilda: And what about the boomerang and the hat with the corks?

Dr. Hinge: Yes, perhaps, dear, but I don't really think they suit the bust of Bizet.

Dame Hilda: No, I think they'd really suit your room better, wouldn't they? You could hang them between the stirrup pump and the stuffed owl in that surrealist corner of yours. {Door knocks.} It's all right, Evadne. I'll go.

Dr. Hinge: Oh, don't say Maud’s snapped her key off in the lock again.

Dame Hilda: Aaaah!

Dr. Hinge: Hilda, what on earth has happened.

Dame Hilda: It's him, that little Welshman, how dare he come here. I will not open the door to him.

Dr. Hinge: I think you're going to have to open the door to him, dear. You appear to have caught his tie in it.

Dame Hilda: Get the scissors, Evadne, we'll cut it off, he'll never miss it.

Dr. Hinge: We will do no such thing, Hilda. Now stand back and let me handle it.

Customer: Oh, hello, I'm ever so sorry. Give her a bit of a start, did I?

Dr. Hinge: You scared the wits out of her, such as they are.

Customer:  You should get a chain on that door, you know, if she's frightened of strangers. Yes, looks like you should have one at the shop of yours, and all. I see her keep diving down behind the counter each time someone went by.

Dame Hilda: What exactly do you want?

Customer: Have you still got that ‘arp?

Dame Hilda: Yes I have and you're not having it.

Dr. Hinge:  Now, Hilda, let me...

Customer:  Oh, have I caught you had a bad time?

Dame Hilda: I'd like to see the day you caught us at a good time!

Customer: You see, I'm giving an ‘arp recital at the memorial hall this evening. But when I got down there to rehearse just now, they told me the truck bringing my ‘arp from Wales.

Dr. Hinge: Llanfairfechan?

Customer: No. Llanarmon Dyffryn Ceiriog I have an aunt in Llanfairfechan!

Dr. Hinge: Well, you were wrong there, Hilda, for a start?

Customer: Oh, where did she think my aunt lived then?

Dame Hilda: Oh, just get on with it!

Customer: Any how the truck had an accident, see? And they... well, they can't get my ‘arp here in time.

Dame Hilda: Pity.

Customer: And I remembered you and your ‘arp.

Dame Hilda: Oh, yes.

Customer: And a very sweet lady, at the hall said, if you wasn't at the shop, you'd be at home. And that you had your ‘arp at home anyhow. And she very kindly gave me your address, see? And I thought, well, I'd just pop up and see if I could borrow it for the evening.

Dame Hilda: Well, I ask you! I've met some plausible rascals in my time. And I've heard a few cock and bull tales!

Customer: I beg your pardon?

Dame Hilda: You can tell that one to the Marines.

Customer: Well, I doubt you’d do much good, see? Going the Marines. Oh, I might be able to borrow a trombone or a tuba or even a bassoon. But I doubt I'd be able to get hold of an ‘arp. An ‘arp's a difficult instrument to march with, see?

Dame Hilda: We can do without your cheek, thank you

Dr. Hinge: Hilda, do let the man finish.

Customer:  Oh, thank you, madam. I remember you was the sensible one last time. A Pity, that ‘arp isn't yours.

Dame Hilda: That's right. Go on endear yourself to me.

Customer: Look, if you want to check my story, you can check. The lady who gave me your address was the honourable Lorna Dyrenforth. Go on phone her.

Dame Hilda: My dear sir, let me tell you that the honourable Lorna Dyrenforth is such a cultural snob. That she would give my address to Bill Sykes. If he told her he could sing Bell Canto and his dog dance the sugar plum fairy!

Customer: Ah, give me strength. Look, have you seen this in the local paper

Dame Hilda: What?

Customer: It’s an advertisement for the ‘arp recital at the memorial hall tonight.

Dame Hilda: Well, anybody can put an advertisement in a paper. They advertise Swiss cuckoo clocks and when you get them there's no cuckoo!

Customer: And I bet if anyone's an expert on cuckoo's it's you.

Dr. Hinge: Might I suggest that if you two are going to shout at each other, we go in off the step.

Customer: Why, look at the accompanying article and the photograph. It's me, look, me.

Customer: Oh, yes, and isn't that what they call a mug shot?

Customer: And what does it say underneath then?

Dame Hilda: Usually wanted.

Dr. Hinge: Hilda, it says, Daffyd Llewellyn, the internationally famous harpist.

Customer: Yes, that's me, internationally famous harpist. I haven't got an ‘arp!

Dame Hilda: Mr. Llewellyn, I'm sure you will pardon my caution. But that harp of mine once belonged to Mrs. Dale. It means a great deal to me and I dare say that even internationally famous harpist have, on occasion, been known to go to the bad.

Dame Hilda: Well, with both the Welshmen and Evadne against me, I was finally persuaded. But as I saw that man loading my harp into the back of his Japanese hatchback, an overwhelming sense of foreboding swept over me. After he'd gone, we telephoned the hall to try to get tickets for the recital. But they were sold out, so they said. So we sat and waited. The recital was due to end at nine, and he should have been back with us shortly afterwards. Oh, how time began to drag. Nine fifteen came and nine twenty. Nine twenty one. Nine twenty one and ten seconds. It was then that I decided to telephone the police.

{Drawing Room.}

Dame Hilda: Hello? Oh, hello. Is that the police? This is Dame Hilda Bracket here. Someone has stolen my harp…. No, no, not my heart, dear. My harp with a P!... a P! trust me to get one with an infantile sense of humour…. I don't know. He's a Welshman…. Yes, I know there are a lot of them about... Yes, Wales is full of them... He's a harpist... He took it for a recital…. Oh, well, he was a little dark man, shifty-eyed, sinister looking… What do you mean, why the devil did I lend to him if he looked like that? Look, just send someone along, will you? It's the old manse.

Dame Hilda: Oh, Evadne you’re surely not still sitting there, cleaning that figurine. You look like a  Aladdin, rubbing his wonderful lamp.

Dr. Hinge: Well, if a genie suddenly appears, I shall ask him to fetch your harp back for you.

Dame Hilda: I say, Evadne? Something's just occurred to me.

Dr. Hinge: What, dear?

Dame Hilda: Do you realise that every time you rub that figure, that Welshman appears!

Dr. Hinge: Oh, stuff and nonsense, Hilda.

Dame Hilda: Just you think back, both times at the shop and again when he arrived up here.

Dr. Hinge: Pure coincidence.

Dame Hilda: Well, you can call it coincidence, if you like, call it fate, call it destiny. Something is happening that we do not fully understand.

Dr. Hinge: Rubbish.

{Door knocks.}

Dame Hilda: There, you've done it again. I’ll go!

Dr. Hinge: As long as it's not Digger Carew!.

Customer: Hello, I'm back.

Dame Hilda: So I see.

Customer: I'm ever so sorry I'm so late. They wouldn't let me go, see. Oh, just kept on cheering and cheering, they did. And then I had a puncture.

Dame Hilda: Oh, dear Everybody seems to be having punctures today, and there's such a letdown, aren't they? Still, I wasn't worried, Mr. Llewellyn. I knew my harp was perfectly safe with you. Do bring it in.

Customer: Oh, thank you.

Dame Hilda: Evadne?

Dr. Hinge: What, dear?

Dame Hilda: Phone the police, would you?

Customer: Police?

Dame Hilda: Yes, yes. Just tell them we don't want them, dear.

Dr. Hinge: All right, Hilda.

Customer: What do you mean to tell me you have to phone them and tell them when you don't want them?

Dame Hilda: Yes, its a special arrangement we have.

Customer: That's very sensible.

Dame Hilda: Isn't it?

Customer: Now, if you were just to get a chain on that door of yours, like I said, I reckon you'd be as safe as houses up here, you know? How often do you have to phone them to tell them when you don't want them?

Dame Hilda: Just whenever we don't, don't we, dear?

Dr. Hinge: Yes, don't we?

Customer: Well, I'll just carry this through for you, shall I? Put it right back where I found it? Are you sure you don't want to sell it?

Dame Hilda: Now, don't you start that again.

Customer: Oh, it's a real beautiful ‘arp this, you know? One of these days I’ll have it of you. I'm very grateful for the loan, anyhow. Oh, put it here, shall I?

Dame Hilda: Yes, that’s lovely. Thank you.

Customer: Tell you what I'm going to do. When I come in here earlier, I see that little coral figure of yours. Yes. It's one of a pair, you know. And I happen to have it’s partner. I'm going to send it to you as a little thank you present.

Dame Hilda: Oh, how very kind.

Customer: Mine was giving me many, many years ago by a very dear friend of mine, an Australian.

Dame Hilda: Oh, I had an Australian friend.

Customer: Oh, I bet you didn't have one like mine. Digger Carew was his name.

Dr. Hinge: Oh, god!

Customer: What do you know, Digger?

Dame Hilda: Do I know Digger?

Dr. Hinge: Does she know Digger!!

Dame Hilda: I've not seen him for years.

Customer: Well, he's coming across 'ere in a few weeks time.

Dame Hilda: No.

Customer: Yes, I'll tell him to be sure and look you up. Shall I?

Dame Hilda: Oh, that would be lovely. Well, Evadne, You can say what you like about fate and coincidence. You're going to have to admit one thing, dear.

Dr. Hinge: And what's that, Hilda?

Dame Hilda: I certainly look like getting my 20 pounds worth out of that old tea chest.

Transcribed by Lorraine Taylor