Putting It On The Map.

Dame Hilda: Historically speaking, Stackton Tressel, has always managed to keep itself pretty much to itself. In fact, it's only ever once been mentioned in the journal of the English traveller, Jeremiah Hawkins, who visited the town in the spring of 1731. He was lost. He stayed at the bull inn where he partook of what he describes as a dirty dinner. Though whether this refers to the state of the food or the behaviour of the serving wenches he does not make plain? After dinner he says, some fountains were made to squirt a lot for me. That of course was 250 years ago. And ever since then we have made efforts to improve the lot of the tourists. Our efforts began in earnest one morning last summer. It was a Wednesday. And Evadne and I were working in our music emporium.

Dame Hilda:  Evadne, what's in this disgusting old parcel on the top of the piano, dear?

Dr. Hinge: It's music, Hilda.

Dame Hilda: Music?

Dr. Hinge: I bought it while you were out.

Dame Hilda: Who from? A busker​? He didn't chuck in his spoons as well, did he?

Dr. Hinge: He was rather a smart young man as a matter of fact. He's just moved into Rose Cottage where the old Mrs. Partridge lived. And he was clearing out the attic.

Dame Hilda: He might come across old Mr. Partridge.

Dr. Hinge: Now don't start that again, Hilda!

Dame Hilda: Well, no one ever discovered what became of him, did they?

Dr. Hinge: Well, if it'll put your mind at rest, all that young man found in the attic was a set of sweeps brushes, several copies of the Muck shifter and Public Works Gazette, and that music.

Dame Hilda: And how much did you give him?

Dr. Hinge: Two pounds.

Dame Hilda: Two pounds? You gave him two pounds for this lot. I'd sooner have had the Muck shifter and Public Works Gazette!

Dr. Hinge: Hilda, there must be a hundred sheets of music here, plus the albums.

Dame Hilda: And have you looked at the titles?

Dr. Hinge: Well, no not yet.

Dame Hilda: Then you should. It's hardly our sort of thing, dear. ‘She'd never had her ticket punched before’  And what about this? ‘I kissed her in German, I loved her in Dutch, we courted in various ways. For foreigners tickled her fancy so much. It was everything a lah Francais’ I never realised old Mrs. Partridge was that way inclined. She always seemed so sanctimonious. And her with a gammy leg as well.

Dr. Hinge: No, she used to put that on.

Dame Hilda: Nonsense it was gammy, it wasn't wooden. And just look at this one. ‘If you've never been the lover of the landlady's daughter, then you cannot have a second piece of pie’ I ask you?

Dr. Hinge: It was a job lot Hilda.  I bought it for the three albums underneath. They'll sell for at least two pounds fifty each. By the way Hilda, there are a couple of songs I think we should copy out.

Dame Hilda: Which songs are there?

Dr. Hinge: Well, this one for a start. Oh yes, here. ‘In your pretty French petticoat’ Why don't you try it out?

Dame Hilda: Yes, but I'll keep my dress on if you don't mind.

Near the town of old Bordeaux. Close beside the old Chateau.

Girls in quaint frocks and petticoats, through the vineyards come and go

One day came a gallant British tar, and deep in the love he fell.

With one of those charming vineyard maids, for whom he softly said, Mamselle.

In your pretty French petty coat, of red, white, and blue.

In your pretty French petty coat, I do like you.

I've seen some pretty girls, but one thing I know,

You’re the nicest little thing in petticoats, in old Bordeaux.

In your pretty French petty coat, of red, white and blue.

In your pretty French petty coat, I do like you.

 I've seen some pretty girls, but one thing I know.

You’re the nicest little thing in petticoats, in old Bordeaux.

Dame Hilda: You know, that really is a lovely little Song, Evadne, we must have that one.

Dr. Hinge: That album is full of absolute beauties.

Dame Hilda: Then I shall buy it for you.

Dr. Hinge: For two pounds fifty?

Dame Hilda: Of course not, dear, that’s trade.

Dr. Hinge: Oh, all right. Say 33 and a third percent discount, let's call it one pound fifty.

Dame Hilda: And the usual ten percent?

Dr. Hinge: What usual ten percent?

Dame Hilda: Well, Evadne, if I get ten percent discount at the grocers, I should surely be allowed it here.

Dr. Hinge: All right. Say one pound thirty five.

Dame Hilda: Don't I get anything off for cash?

Dr. Hinge: Oh don’t be utterly ridiculous.

Dame Hilda: But you only gave two pounds for the whole lot. Now you surely don't expect me to pay one pound thirty five for one album.

Dr. Hinge: Very well. Another ten percent for cash. One pound twenty one p.

Dame Hilda: Well, I don't really see why I should pay all of it. I mean, it is for both of us.

Dr. Hinge: All right. Let's say a pound. And here's my half. Fifty p.

Dame Hilda:  Done.

Dr. Hinge: Now what are you doing?

Dame Hilda: I'm putting an IOU in the till for 50p. And here you are, Evadne, One song album with my love. Would you like me to sign it for you?

Dr. Hinge: I'd prefer you to sign the IOU if you don't mind.

Dame Hilda: Really, you can be so ungracious.  {Shop bell!} Oh, Major Dyrenforth.

Major: Good morning, ladies.

Dr. Hinge: Good morning, major.

Dame Hilda: Hello, major. Out for a stroll?

Major: No, as a matter of fact, Lorna's got me running about looking for a wardrobe.

Dame Hilda: Why, as one got away?

Major: And you know, Hilda, she opened hers this morning and found it full of woodworms.

Dame Hilda: Really? Well, I opened mine and I found it full of frocks.

Dr. Hinge: I should warn you, Major. Hilda is in a funny mood this morning, or more accurately. An unfunny mood.

Major:  Anyway, it's not the wardrobe that brought me here.

Dame Hilda: You came on the bus, did you? Ha, ha!

Dr. Hinge: You see what I mean?

Major: I come to see if either of you dear ladies has ever had any thoughts about attracting tourists.

Dr. Hinge:  Well, not very serious ones, I'm afraid, Major. Hilda usually settles for fluttering her eyelashes at them, and cooing bonjour. Whatever the nationality.

Dame Hilda: Most of them know perfectly well what I mean, dear.

Dr. Hinge: Most of them would know perfectly well what you mean if you merely said good morning.
Major: No. You see, the Chamber of Trade is keen to get Stackton on the tourist map. But when you come to look around, we don't really have very much to offer, do we? After all the castle was blown up, the priory was blown down, and the Saxon barrow was levelled for Curly kale in 1944.

Dame Hilda: Oh, well, absolutely nothing was sacred to the land girls, Major, I should know I was one. Our motto was simply, backs to the land, and there were a few who took that quite literally. That's probably how your barrow got levelled.

Major: Precisely, my point, Hilda. No, I think we should attempt to find some local custom or ancient ceremony that would bear revival.

Dr. Hinge: Now, I know what you mean, Major? I happened to be in Ayot St Lawrence one April, when they were blessing the silkworms.

Dame Hilda: Well, there's a conversation stopper.

Major:  Do they do that in Ayot?

Dr. Hinge: Oh, yes. Silk is still important to them. They pray for disease free cocoons.

Dame Hilda: That sounds fun.

Major:  Dr. Hinge is right, Hilda. We need something indigenous to Stackton. An event in which the whole town can join, something they did in the old days. We must all put our heads together.

Dame Hilda: Oh, well, now that would certainly be different.

Major: Good heavens, is that the time. I must be running. That wardrobe won't wait.

Dame Hilda: No, they're very impatient things, aren't they?

Major: Thinking caps on, eh? Jolly good. Bye for now.

Dame Hilda: Bye-bye, Major.

Dr. Hinge: Bye-bye.

Dame Hilda: I say, Evadne. Isn't it lovely to think of Lorna Dyrenforth, all alone in that big house, surrounded by voracious woodworms?

Dr. Hinge: You really are in a very strange mood today, Hilda. I do hope you're going to get a little more amenable when the tourists come.

Dame Hilda Oh, I know how to handle tourists, dear? I shall be my usual charming self.{Shop bell!} Oh, sounds like a customer. Bonjour!

Maud: It's only me, Dame ‘ilda. Doctor.

Dr. Hinge: Oh, hello, Maud.

Dame Hilda: And what brings you here, Maud?

Maud: I thought you might be getting a bit peckish, so I done you a bit of dinner.

Dame Hilda:  Oh, how kind, Maud. What is it, dear?

Maud: It's an ‘ot pot. Only it's cold.

Dame Hilda: Still, it's the thought that counts, Maud. We can always reheat it on the ring at the back, can't we, Evadne?

Dr. Hinge: What makes you think that would help?

Dame Hilda: Now, Maud, I'm glad you've dropped in. You may be able to help us, actually, because you've lived here all your life, haven't you?

Maud: Yes.

Dame Hilda: Well, you must remember some of the things that people got up to in the old days.

Maud: Oh, I should say...

Dr. Hinge: Now, Maud, just think. Apart from hanky-panky and presumably cricket. Was there anything else that you used to do on the village green in the old days?

Maud:  Well, they used to chuck people in the pond,

Dame Hilda: Really? And what day did they do that on, dear?

Maud: Oh they did it on most days, Dame ‘ilder, when the pub chucked out.

Dr. Hinge: We were really thinking of something more celebratory, Maude.

Maud: I suppose you mean, like, May day, Doctor.

Dame Hilda: Did you celebrate, May day, dear?

Maud: Oh, We did when were a girl, Dame ‘ilder. Oh, it were always a lovely day. I'll never forget the first May day as I were allowed to dance around the May pole, All us little girls got up early and dressed in our prettiest frocks and flowers in our hair... And gum boots.

Dame Hilda: Gum boots, dear?

Maud: On account of the cows.

Dame Hilda: Yes, I see.

Maud: And on the green were a great May pole. Ever so tall it were and painted pretty and long, long ribbons, streaming off it and garlands everywhere. And all the little girls made a circle on the inside, and all the little boys made a circle on the outside, and we all took ‘old of our ribbons. And the fiddlers struck up, and off we all went tripping round.

Dame Hilda: What a very pretty picture.

Dr. Hinge: Quite the light fantastic.

Maud: And all us little girls was going one way and all them little boys was going t’other. And when somebody shouted, turn, we all turned. Well, it all went very well for a while, and the dance were getting faster and faster and the fiddlers louder and louder. And I swear I heard somebody shout, so I turned. Do you know I was the only one who did?

Dame Hilda: I don't believe it, Maud.

Dr. Hinge: I do!

Maud: Down they went like nine pins. The little girls, I mean.

Dame Hilda: The little boys were all right, were they?

Maud: Well, they would have been, Dame ‘ilda. But weaving in and out to avoid the little girls as was still standing. I wove in and out of the little boys.

Dr. Hinge: The massacre of the innocents.

Maud: I've never seen such an ‘eap of ‘umanity. Yet do you know in all that we never let go of our ribbons? Well, ‘sept for the little girl who was tied to the pole.

Dame Hilda: Tied to it, Maud?

Maud: We never knowed ‘ow she come to be tied. I think she must ‘ave been stood still while we was all going round. It was ‘er mother, as ‘it me.

Dame Hilda: Hit you, dear​?

Maud: Right round the ear with ‘er garland. Grabbed me arms she did an’ tried to pull me out, but I weren't going. It were May day. So I ‘angs onto me ribbon for grim death. I think she'd have pulled me arm out of joint if me ma ‘adn’t kicked ‘er shins.

Dr. Hinge: Oh, the simple old fashioned rustic pleasures.

Maud: Oh, that were a lovely day. But they never did it again.

Dr. Hinge: I wonder why?

Dame Hilda: I suppose we could always revive the May day celebration, Evadne.

Dr. Hinge: Hilda, if you are seriously considering adopting a suggestion of Maud’s, I think I'd prefer chucking people in the pond. No names, no pack drill, dear, but I could even suggest someone we might start with.

Dame Hilda: Really? Anyone I know?

Dame Hilda:  Well, unfortunately, Maud simply wouldn't agree to being chucked in the pond. I don't know why. Anyway, Evadne spent several days digging about for ideas in the local history department of the reference library  and finally she came up with an idea.

Dr. Hinge:  We shall celebrate Niddling Thursday.

Dame Hilda: When is Niddling Thursday?

Dr. Hinge: It's the second Thursday in September, Hilda.

Dame Hilda: And what exactly is one expected to do that day?

Dr. Hinge: Niddle!

Dame Hilda: Evadne, don't be so abstruse, dear.

Dr. Hinge: I must confess, Hilda, I had to look it up myself. It's a Scot’s word.

Dame Hilda: It would be.

Dr. Hinge: And it means simply moving quickly.

Dame Hilda: You mean like a moonlight flit?

Dr. Hinge: Not moving a house, dear. Moving about, rushing. The Oxford dictionary gives a quote from an old Scots ballad that says, ‘They widdled aboot, they niddled aboot’

Dame Hilda: I don't like the sound of the widdling, dear, I mean, the niddling sounds nasty enough.

Dr. Hinge: Now, Niddling Thursday was obviously named because it involved a good deal of rushing about. The ceremony was, in fact, the re-enactment of an ancient Stackton legend. The entire town turned out to process through the streets of Stackton behind the solitary figure of a woman.

Dame Hilda: What age woman?

Dr. Hinge: About our age, I suppose. Why?

Dame Hilda: Did you, uh... Have anyone in mind to play her?

Dr. Hinge: No.

Dame Hilda: Well, I don't want to push myself forward, you understand, but what about me?

Dr. Hinge: Alright, if you'd like too.

Dame Hilda: That's settled, then. Now, let me see. I could wear a wimple and velvet, and maybe a fur plastron with jewelled buttons down the front and a silver hip belt. Oh, heaven. I can see it Evadne!

Dr. Hinge: I don't think you can, dear. This woman is dressed in rags, she has her face blackened a birch broom in her hand and a large artificial hump on her back

Dame Hilda: Well, I'm not wearing a hump and that's flat.

Dr. Hinge: The woman in question is supposed to be Crazy Kate.

Dame Hilda: Oh. I see, sort of like Mad Margaret in Ruddigore?
Dr. Hinge: Well, sort of.

Dame Hilda: That's alright, then. One of my favourite roles, as you know. And Mad Margaret isn't really mad anyway, is she? She's not even deranged. She's just very sad.

Dr. Hinge:  Well, yes, but Crazy Kate was as mad as a coot.

Dame Hilda: Oh!

Dr. Hinge: Mind you, she improved dramatically.

Dame Hilda: Oh, that sounds better.

Dr. Hinge: You see, it was a time of terrible drought. And because poor Kate was crazed and deformed, the mob took it out on her. One day, one Thursday, seeing her in the street they gave chase, hurling stones at her and abuse and of course spitting on her.

Dame Hilda: Are you sure we wouldn't be better off doing May day, dear?

Dr. Hinge: Let me finish. Kate ran. She raced through the streets of the town, the mob was at her heels. Finally, she jumped into the old well in Culpeper alley. It was dry. And there at the bottom was a frog

Dame Hilda. Eeh! Ooh!

Dr. Hinge: And the frog said... ‘This Well is very deep and very dry. I've been here many days and I shall die’

Dame Hilda: Just say it normally, dear.

Dr. Hinge: It doesn’t sound right said normally.

Dame Hilda: Well, it sounds hateful said like a frog.

Dr. Hinge: Are you going to listen to this story or not?

Dame Hilda: Oh, yes, yes.

Dr. Hinge: So, crazy Kate said ‘Don't bother, Mr. frog, I'll rescue you’{Scots accent!}

Dame Hilda:  Oh, she was Scottish?

Dr. Hinge: Yes.

Dame Hilda: Sort of Lochgelly?.

Dr. Hinge: Yes. She said, ‘don't worry, I'll take you up with me dear’  She took the frog and clambered up and they came to the top. The mob was waiting. But no one appeared to see her. And Crazy Kate then realised that she too was a frog.

Dame Hilda:  A frog? A frog? I thought you said she improved.

Dr. Hinge: She does.

Dame Hilda: Turning into a frog hardly seems a step in the right direction.

Dr. Hinge: Just listen. So there we have two frogs sitting on the edge of the well.

Dame Hilda: Yes.

Dr. Hinge: Suddenly the well filled with water. And the first frog said, jump in. And Crazy Kate, completely trusting, did so.

Dame Hilda: She really was crazy that Kate.

Dr. Hinge: And do you know what happened?

Dame Hilda: She drowned.

Dr. Hinge: No, she didn't. She turned into the most beautiful, elegant and gracious lady. And at that very moment the rains came and the people lifted her onto their shoulders and feted her through the town, strewing flowers before her. And she lived and was celebrated to a ripe old age. And annually afterwards the legend was reenacted.

Dame Hilda: And what happened to the frog?

Dr. Hinge: It was a magic frog with magic powers and when it's needed it will no doubt return.

Dame Hilda: Yes. Well, I don't think all that running through the streets being chased by a howling mob is really me, dear.

Dr. Hinge: Well, no, what I suggest, dear, is that we split the thing into two parts. The chase first and then the triumphal procession. So we'd get someone from the rugger club, say, to play Crazy Kate and to do the athletic stuff. And then you and your wimple and your whatnots would wait in the well.

Dame Hilda: In the well?

Dr. Hinge: It’s completely dry, and not very deep. Then at the right moment you see, you'd be wound up ready for the triumphful procession.

Dame Hilda: You make me sound like a clockwork doll.

Dr. Hinge: Anyway, that's what I suggest we do.

Dame Hilda: And what about the frog?

Dr. Hinge: Don't worry about the frog. We won't have a real one.

Dame Hilda: You know, Evadne. I'm rather looking forward to niddling Thursday, especially as I'm going to be among the lucky few who will not actually be required to niddle.

Dr. Hinge: Right, Hilda. Now you'd better start thinking about getting into your well.
Dame Hilda: I've been thinking about nothing else ever since we left home. Do I really have to? I mean, couldn't I just sort of languish on the top somewhere?

Dr. Hinge: No, you could not. If you don't get down the well, you don't do it at all.

Dame Hilda: Well, let's at least leave it until the last minute.

Dr. Hinge: This is the last minute. They should be on their way by now.

Dame Hilda: Shouldn't we be able to hear them?

Dr. Hinge: Well, not until they get closer. Then you'll hear them all right. They should sound like a lynch mob.

Dame Hilda: If the rugger club's leading them, they are a lynch mob.

Dr. Hinge: Now get into your bucket and I'll lower you down.

Dame Hilda: Shouldn't I have a hard hat and a canary?

Dr. Hinge: Hilda, if you don't get into that bucket, I shall pick you up and throw you in. There are tourists in Stackton waiting to see you wound up.

Dame Hilda:  Oh, do stop going on about me being wound up. I feel as if I've got a key sticking out of my back. And that's only one step away from a hump.

Dr. Hinge: Hilda, I need to count to three. One, two…

Dame Hilda: Evadne, how am I? With even a modicum of decorum supposed to cock my leg over the parapet.

Dr. Hinge: You are not required to cock anything Hilda. Just stand on the parapet, step down into that large bucket which we have gone to such lengths to procure for you. It is known to us all as Hilda's bucket and I want to see Hilda in it. Now, one….

Dame Hilda: You're holding onto that handle, aren't you Evadne?

Dr. Hinge: Yes, I am.

Dame Hilda: And you're sure you're strong enough. If you start flying round and round, I'm going to drop straight down into it.

Dr. Hinge: Hilda, don't tempt me. Get into the bucket.

Dame Hilda:  Er, er, Here goes then. Tell them, should they ask of me, that I went down with my ship?   Aaaaaah! Not so fast! Not so fast, Evadne, please, please, please, not so fast! Ooh! Ooh!

Dr. Hinge: Right Hilda, you're down. Now we're ready for the niddlers. Oh, Major Dyrenforth! Hello Major. All well?

Major: No, as a matter of fact, we've got a bit of a problem.

Dr. Hinge: Problem?

Major: Stupid young asses, that rugger club. Designated run like the wind Roland was to play crazy Kate. Best runner around and a practical joker to boot. They get the off and he's away, like a rocket. Gone!

Dr. Hinge: So, they'll be here quicker than we thought?

Major: No, that is the problem. They'll not be here at all. He's gone the wrong way, you see. streaked off up Wendlebury hill, last seen disappearing into the woods and the whole damn town in hot pursuit must be making for Macklesham well.

Dr. Hinge: That's 12 miles away.

Major: Precisely. I'd not like to be shopping in Macklesham when that lot hit the high street. We'll have to try to head them back. I've got the car, will you come?

Dr. Hinge: Well, of course.

Major: I'm sorry, but we must be going.

Transcribed by Lorraine Taylor