Bourne Diary - September 2000

by

Rex Needle

  Saturday 2nd September 2000 One of the most important public amenities in Bourne is the weekly freighter service that has been operating for the past 15 years from the car park outside the Rainbow Foodstore for the disposal of household waste. An indicator of its necessity is the constant flow of cars, trailers and vans for three hours every Saturday morning and the tremendous amount of rubbish that is brought in. It is therefore alarming to read that the Mayor of Bourne, Councillor John Kirkman, has suggested that this vital facility is in danger of being curtailed because a handful of people are flouting the rules.

Dumping garbage before the mobile skips arrive together with inconsiderate and often dangerous driving and parking by some drivers has resulted in several complaints from members of the public and more importantly from the Anglia Regional Co-operative Society Ltd, owners of the supermarket, who want the amenity service relocated. The mayor says that there is no other suitable alternative site and the loss of this one could mean an end to the refuse collection service on Saturday mornings.

I wonder if these prophets of doom realise how serious it would be for Bourne if this facility were to be withdrawn. We live in a disposable age and the volume of rubbish increases as the years progress. The result would therefore be quite horrendous because homeowners insist on disposing of their waste and if they cannot dump it at an official site then much of it will be dumped elsewhere. The obvious solution would be for all of our refuse to be taken away from our homes during the regular weekly collections but this service has become so riddled with restrictive practices that you count yourself lucky if the dustmen take anything that is not packed into a regulation black plastic bag and even then five is the maximum. Bureaucracy governs even what we throw away.

We are told that the current situation has been caused by a small minority of people who abuse the system but why should the majority be held to ransom by the few? Why have not the local authorities imposed some control over this Saturday morning facility as this column has advocated for the past two years? Fly tipping before the skips arrive occurs because there is no supervision and dangerous driving and inconsiderate parking is prevalent because the operation is totally disorganised. At any given moment during the three hours this facility is open, half a dozen operatives can be seen standing around the carts gossiping and smoking when they could be usefully employed directing vehicles into an orderly queue and so avoid these traffic hazards.

If there is graffiti in public places it is up to the local authorities to clean it up. If there is rubbish piling up, it is their duty to collect it under the provisions of the Environmental Protection Act of 1990. That is what we pay our taxes for and they ought not underestimate the weight of public opinion over this issue. During almost fifty years as a journalist, I have known many cases in which rubbish has been dumped on the steps of town halls and council offices in protest over the inadequacy of the refuse collection services and the inactivity of councillors in putting it right. We should not think for a moment that this could not happen here in Bourne.

Our councillors ought to be actively trying to solve the present problems over this amenity site instead of holding up their hands in horror and talking of its demise because of the anti-social actions of the few. They must realise that if this facility is ended, the rubbish will go somewhere else and that will inevitably mean the roadside ditches and verges, the spaces around farm gates and isolated woodland areas or even the streets themselves. Bourne would become one big rubbish tip. It is a scenario too terrible to contemplate and those we put in power should stop talking about failure. If the mayor and our councillors are not up to the challenge, then they should step down and make way for someone who is.

I have been to Castle Bytham for yet another visit, this time spurred on by the new history of the village that has just been published by the parish council to mark the millennium. Many of our villages have been involved in similar projects but this is something special because the final result is a folio sized and linen bound volume embossed with gold lettering on the front and spine that would take pride of place on any library shelf.

The author, Richard Foers, has been painstaking in his research and generous in his acknowledgements, and the result is a joy to read, not only for parishioners who have all received a free copy but also for outsiders like myself who like to visit this interesting village occasionally to see English rural life at its best.

The book examines every aspect of the fascinating history of this ancient village, eight miles south west of Bourne, that is also a conservation area, from its origins as a river bed half a million years ago, through the Stone and Bronze Ages, the Roman occupation, its Saxon inheritance and the Norman invasion, mediaeval England and into Georgian and Victorian times when the landlord tenant relationship was in its ascendancy, and then to the 20th century when cottages and commercial premises became privately owned and the arrival of newcomers who have chosen to live here was a regular occurrence.

The author has a knack for unearthing the bizarre and unusual in his anecdotal research and there are several stories that remain in the memory. The village undertaker, for instance, spent much of his time during the severe winter of 1947 when snow drifts were several feet deep, making sledges in order that bread and provisions could be distributed from the village shop and to bring in milk from a nearby farm. We are also told that when water was short in the countryside during summer droughts, cattle and sheep were driven into the village pond for a wash and a drink and that sewage effluent was once piped into it causing an obnoxious smell when the level dropped in dry weather and so someone was sent in to clean it out. I particularly liked the thought that farm mechanisation was baffling to agricultural workers dedicated to the horse drawn plough and hay wain and once the tractor arrived many had to re-train because the iron beast would not stop when they shouted "Whoa!"

There are photographs and maps in this delightful book and a plan of the village then and now, 1919 and 1999, and charts showing how the ownership of the various properties has changed in the intervening eighty years. These two lists alone reflect the inevitable demise of the landlord and tenant relationship that had dominated life in this village for a thousand years for the majority of the properties that were once in the hands of the principal landowner are now privately owned.

The author is a Yorkshireman who served with the Royal Air Force for 36 years. He has lived in the village since 1978 and his interest in its history started while researching another book, The History of the Foers Family that was published in 1991. He discovered that one of his ancestors, William de Fortibus, was Lord of the Manor in 1221 but he had in fact changed his name from Forz which is phonetically the same as his own. However fanciful and tenuous a connection this may seem, Mr Foers has taken Castle Bytham to his heart for he subsequently wrote a booklet on the historic sites in the locality and he now acts as a tour guide for visitors to the parish.

His latest publication is not perfect. The colour photographs lack depth and I would have preferred to read more of the origins of the existing buildings in the district rather than long sections culled from the very dull minutes of the parish council over the past 100 years while a front index and page titles would have been of great assistance in navigating what is a very detailed account of village history. Nevertheless, for anyone interested in Castle Bytham, this book is required reading.

* The History of Castle Bytham (update 2000) by Richard Foers M B E., J P is published by Castle Bytham Parish Council and is available from the parish clerk Mrs Jenny Gascoyne at 2 St Martin's, Castle Bytham, near Bourne, Lincolnshire, U K, price £12.50 plus pp.

Saturday 9th September 2000

Bourne is a typical market town with much of interest to offer although I imagine that many people drive through and keep straight on because on the surface, our community appears to be little more than rows of shops grouped around the old market square, now the town centre. It requires effort and an inquiring mind to find out. Too many people keep their eyes at shop window level, interested only in what is on offer and what they can buy, yet if they looked up and about them they would see many signs of the recent history of this town.

Buildings may have altered and many of the facades vandalised in the cause of commercialism, but the old properties are still there in many places, some dating back to the 17th century, having survived the two disastrous fires that devastated some quarters of the town. I was reminded of the wealth of heritage detail that a short walk can produce when I examined a curious little building in front of the Baptist Chapel in West Street because this is a reminder of Bourne's past contribution to our country's military endeavours.

It is built of yellow brick and stone with an attractive roof pediment and stands close to the wall of a large Georgian red brick house as though it were attached to it although they are quite separate properties. It was here in times past that local lads took the king's shilling and signed on for a spell with the colours for this small building was once the recruiting office of the 2nd Battalion of the Lincolnshire Volunteer Regiment and part of the sign can still be seen above the window.

It was originally built however for quite a different purpose. Lawyers played an influential part in the life of 19th century Bourne and one such family were the Bells who owned these two properties. One of them, solicitor William David Bell, who died in 1858, was established here for a quarter of a century, living in the three-storey red brick house and using this unusual building as his offices after it was erected in 1834. A stone plaque bearing this date and his initials was originally set into the wall but has recently been removed and attached rather incongruously to the house next door that has been converted into offices.

The building was used for a spell as an antiques shop by the Cliffe family who have lived opposite at No 31 West Street since 1877 but in recent years it has been a local outlet for a national chain of opticians. This business has now moved further down the road and so this unusual little building is currently standing empty but is still a reminder of life in our town when young men willingly rallied to the call in times of trouble and signed on to do their duty for king and country.

For similar curiosities, look up and around when walking out and you will be surprised at what you will discover.

The Family History section on the Bourne web site continues to grow and hardly a week goes by without another name being added, usually from one of the former outposts of the British Empire where immigrants from this part of Lincolnshire landed and started a new life in past centuries. The Internet has given added impetus to the search for our beginnings and the facilities available to seek out our ancestors and to learn about the way they lived would have been totally incomprehensible to those who sailed from these shores to places about which they equally knew very little.

A chance discovery for a newcomer surfing the Internet can open up new horizons and a perfect example of this is an email I have just received from the other side of the world. For instance, a lady living in New Zealand logged on to this web site last month and was soon wandering down memory lane after finding pictures of Market Deeping, a small town seven miles to the south of Bourne, and although the traditional weekly market of the name has long since been moved off the streets to a nearby car park, this remains a very attractive place with lots of interesting buildings and the River Welland running through its length.

Teresa Mulligan lived here as a young girl and during the 1960s, her father Bill Mulligan owned and ran the Blue Bird Café overlooking the market place. I remember this eating place well because at that time I lived at Northborough, a mile or so down the road, and when my son was born in 1967, my wife went into Stamford Hospital but insisted that I must continue eating properly and so I always went for breakfast at the Blue Bird Café and was no doubt served by Bill or at least ate one of the bacon and egg breakfasts in which his café excelled.

I have related this little tale to Teresa and she is delighted. She now lives at a small place called MacAndrew Bay on the Otago Peninsula near Dunedin, the perfect example of how settlers from Britain adapted to their new environments because Dunedin was founded by the Scottish Free Church 150 years ago and is now the second largest city on New Zealand's South Island.

Teresa tells me that 13-year-old Jenni, the youngest of her four children, is researching the family tree for a school project. "I was dismayed at how little I knew", confessed Teresa. "My mother died when I was quite young and somehow we lost contact with her family too. My grandparents also died when I was very young but I do remember visiting them when I was a child and so Market Deeping seemed a good place to start because I have some delightful memories of the place which all came back in a flash when I saw the river and the little town square. My grandmother played the piano for the silent movies and my grandfather was a pharmacist and during our visits they always used lovely china for meals and I can still remember having pudding on those beautiful plates. Her maiden name was Goodman and of course he was a Mulligan."

Teresa is particularly interested in finding out about an incident that occurred in the town seventy years ago. "I remember a newspaper cutting about my father saving someone from drowning in the River Welland", she said. "He was just a boy then and so I guess it was during the mid 1930s. I am curious to find out if anyone who might read this can throw some light on it. I would be most grateful."

If anyone out there has any information that can help Teresa, you may email me and I will pass on the message. Genealogy is both a fascinating and absorbing occupation, especially with the tools and assistance that are available today. Perhaps you or you ancestors came from this part of Britain and if so, you may like to take a look at our Family History page that contains the names of many people who left the Bourne area seeking a better life overseas and who knows, perhaps you might find that you are indeed related to one of them.

Saturday 16th September 2000

There is nothing quite so sentimental as an Irish ballad and during my days as a soldier in the outposts of Empire I have known strong men weep while listening to Danny Boy or Macushla when lonely and far from home. Such was the effect of Kathleen Mavourneen during the American Civil War when it was sung around camp fires between conflicts, a reminder of the girl waiting for the returning soldier and the welcoming hearth of home and family. But this beautiful ballad was not written by an Irishman but an Englishman although the definitive recordings that survive today are those made by the great Irish bel canto tenor John McCormack (1884-1945) and so it will forever be associated with the Emerald Isle.

The composer of Kathleen Mavourneen was in fact Frederick William Nicholls Crouch who was born at Marylebone in London in the summer of 1808 to a musical family and went on to become a cellist, singer and composer. By the time he was fourteen, Crouch was studying at the Royal Academy of Music and playing in theatre orchestras. But he had a roving spirit and moved to Plymouth in Devon while still a young man to work as a professional singer and travelling salesman. Kathleen Mavourneen was written sometime between 1835 and 1838 and although some accounts suggest that Crouch composed it during his time at Plymouth, it is more likely that it was written at his chambers in Great Titchfield Street, London, where he was living the life of a recluse, hounded by financial worries and marital problems. The ballad was inspired by the songs and legends of Ireland of which he was an authority and on which he frequently lectured and is one of a series of songs on Irish themes called Echoes of the Lakes while the lyrics were from a poem by Mrs Louisa Matilda Jane Crawford that had been published in the Metropolitan Magazine of September 1835.

But despite the success of his ballad, Crouch was always short of money and having trouble with his women and in 1849, he abandoned his family and fled to New York with a female pupil to escape bankruptcy and the consequences of possible bigamy. In America, he planned to work as a cellist and after several unsuccessful musical enterprises, conducting, teaching and singing, he served as a trumpeter in the Confederate Army during the Civil War before settling down as a singing teacher in Baltimore where he also worked in a furniture factory. Crouch died in 1896 at the age of 88 having been married four times and fathered 17 children, although various accounts have claimed that the total was nearer 27. He is buried on Confederate Hill in the Loudon Park Cemetery at Baltimore, where his tombstone reads: "Frederick N Crouch, First Richmond Howitzers, Author of Kathleen Mavourneen." Besides the song that made him famous he also wrote 2,000 others as well as two operas and some of his manuscripts can be seen today in the New York Public Library. Crouch is also reputed to have written the song Oh! How I hate to get up in the morning and that he played it on the bugle during the Civil War to wake up his comrades although fifty years later the composition was claimed by Irving Berlin.

I have now discovered with some surprise that Crouch also has connections with Bourne because one of his descendants, Philip Crouch, lives at Dunsby Fen. Frederick was his great great great grandfather and he has spent some time compiling a biographical sketch of his life and times, a project that continues as more information comes to light. This is a most fascinating document because it also reveals yet another connection with our town, this time through one of our own famous sons, Charles Frederick Worth, who left home as a boy during the early 19th century to seek his fortune and later established his fashion house in Paris where he also founded haute couture.

It was here that he met Emma, one of Crouch's daughters by his first marriage. She was the most famous and outrageous courtesan of her day, using the name of Cora Pearl, and she soon became one of Worth's greatest advertisements, wearing the underwear that he designed. Numerous photographs exist of her dressed in the fullest, widest and most fussy of Worth's crinolines imaginable and when Worth launched the bustle, his classic innovation that was to dominate ladies fashion into the next century, Cora was the obvious choice as the first to wear it at important functions and to show it off to the wealthy clientele that frequented his salon.

"The fact that she and Worth were friends is not surprising", says Philip. "Both came from fairly humble circumstances in England and made it big in Parisian high society. On a more practical level, they were probably good for each other. He dressed her in the height of fashion and she gave his creations lots of good publicity by her outrageous behaviour. But three facts about Emma make me smile. Firstly, she is probably the only person in the world to have a biography named after her toilet, 'The Lady with the Swan's Down Seat'. Secondly, she was the originator of the popular party piece of a naked lady bursting out of a cake and thirdly, an Australian brothel has a suite named after her."

Cora had a magnificent figure and the capacity to charm wealthy and titled men to the extent that they fell at her feet and spent vast sums on her that she squandered shamelessly. But it was not to last. The years were not kind to Cora and after a shooting incident involving a rejected lover, she was deported to England, looking old, painted, wrinkled and worn out. She returned to France using clumsily forged documents but the glamorous life she knew had gone forever and she died of cancer while living in distressed circumstances in Paris in 1886 at the age of 51 and is buried in the Batignolles cemetery.

Someone called Peter Cox emailed me last week with an inquiry about the Bourne Coat of Arms that can be seen on the signs at the entrance to our town and is reproduced on the opening page of this web site. I think it was signed by Mrs Cox and she wanted an English translation of the Latin inscription underneath Vigila et Ora. I was unable to send a reply because the message was infected by the dreaded KakWorm virus and if it has not already been done, I would hope that the sender has managed to clean their system without too much damage. Fortunately, my own computer is equipped with a very efficient anti-virus program that alerted me to the danger immediately but I had to forfeit the pleasure of replying before the offending email was wafted away into cyberspace and before I had a chance to make a note of the sender's email address.

The College of Arms granted the Coat of Arms to the former Bourne Urban District Council by letters patent on 23rd July 1953, the shield being a modification of the Wake arms with symbolic representations of the Car Dyke and the Bourne Eau. The design also includes references to the former Bourne castle, the arms of the Cecil family, William Cecil, the first Lord Burghley, having been born in the town, and the Digby family who once owned the Red Hall.

The Coat of Arms remained with the urban district council until the authority was phased out during the local government reorganisation of April 1974 when it passed to Bourne Town Council where it remains. There is a very detailed description of this coat of arms in the millennium edition of the Town Guide, endorsed by the Town Council, but along with many other omissions in this publication, there is no translation of the motto. If then, this guide were ever reprinted, perhaps the editor would like to add that the motto means Watch and Pray, a thought that I commend to all who use computers that are so vulnerable to virus attack yet do not install sufficient safeguards.

*I am indebted to Loretta Willits of Baltimore, Maryland, U S A, biographer and tireless champion of Frederick Crouch, for the photograph of the composer that comes
from the files of her local newspaper.

Saturday 23rd September 2000

A rare calm descended on Bourne for a few days last week as the petrol crisis bit deep into the nation's daily life. It suddenly became less dangerous to cross the roads, diesel fumes were noticeably absent and there were vacant spaces in the car parks and even at the kerbside. For the first time since we moved to this town eighteen years ago, there was some level of sanity out there in the streets.

The shortage of fuel was a welcome relief to those of us who see the proliferation of the motor car as a menace to our lives and as vehicle production continues apace, we envisage that one day we will wake up and find the entire country gridlocked.

This respite from King Car was all too brief. By Sunday, the tankers had again started rolling and although petrol was still short, it was available at some filling stations but long queues developed and with the possibility of frayed tempers and perhaps even fisticuffs, police were in attendance at many, even here in Bourne, a reminder of the fine line that exists between barbarism and civilised behaviour.

There is a belief that we should learn from such experiences but what are the lessons of the fuel crisis? There are those who will celebrate this as a victory for direct action, that the blockades of the fuel depots by farmers and hauliers demonstrated to the nation that their will could be imposed by taking to the streets. But that is far from the truth. Their case would have been for naught without the collusion of the oil companies who deliberately held back supplies in an attempt to force the government to change its taxation policy on petrol. A lower tax would make it easier to increase their prices.

The blockades then were merely a sideshow which the government now recognises for ministers are currently busy formulating new legislation to ensure that oil companies maintain petrol supplies during a crisis, similar to other essential services such as water, gas and electricity. The most important question that is still unanswered about this episode is why did not our government know what was happening and why did they dither so much when they did? Instead, we had the sorry sight of senior ministers such as Blair, Brown and Prescott, running around like headless chickens, totally unable to grasp the seriousness of the situation or what to do about it when they finally understood its implications. Politicians appear only able to cope with the status quo. It is always a crisis that reveals the incompetence of those we have elected to office.

It was with some dismay that I read a report in last week's issue of The Local, our town newspaper, under the headline "Police slam town critics". The story dealt largely with comments made by contributors to the Bourne Forum on this web site about the loutish and drunken behaviour that is to be encountered here, especially after the public houses have shut. The experiences related were not submitted by people who dislike this town but those who love it and for this reason they were expressing their disgust at some of the incidents they have witnessed.

One of the most disturbing accounts was filed by Adam Hill who wrote: "I brought my girl friend down from London to show her the town in which I grew up. We sat in the War Memorial gardens listening to the brass band, had tea and scones, and I was proud of the town. Everything came crashing down to earth however when I took her to the pub in the evening where there was a fight inside and outside, resulting in an ambulance and the police being called. I thought this would be water off a duck's back to an urban girl but she had never seen anything like it. I guess that she saw the best and the worst elements of Bourne culture that day."

Other contributors were in no doubt that heavy drinking by young people, especially at weekends, is a major factor in the many disturbances that are occurring in our town and one man wrote: "When I was a youth, Bourne was a peaceful place to be on a Saturday night. People still went to the boozer but they returned home in a reasonably orderly way to sleep it off. I do not know what has contributed to the change but there seems to be an air of menace on the streets after the pubs have shut."

Another contributor suggested: "There's nothing for the kids to do but to drink to excess to pass the night away. What with that and the old Bourne mentality which is that anyone who isn't from Bourne gets a smack in the mouth because you looked at them the wrong way."

The newspaper contacted the police for a reaction to these views which were expressed by people who have a high regard for Bourne and are concerned for its future and the response was quite startling. Sergeant Chris Taylor, who is based at Bourne police station, said: "These comments are just pouring fat on the fire."

Are we then to keep quiet about what is happening? Would it be easier to turn a blind eye and let the drunken louts have their own way? Where have we heard that remedy before? It would certainly help the police if no one complained because then there would be no need for them to turn out to do the job for which they are being paid. The suppression of free speech is one of the tools of an authoritarian state and we should be wary of any organisation that uses phrases such as "unhelpful" or "negative" or similar euphemisms when referring to unpalatable truths about their role in society because what they are really saying is "Shut up!"

The police, however, have defeated their own argument in this case because Sergeant Taylor also said: "There isn't a town in the country that doesn't have any drunken behaviour. There have been drink-related incidents in the town for as long as I can remember."

The whole point of this discussion then, and it is one that The Local ought to have addressed in an editorial instead of printing such a garbled and contradictory report, is that drunken and loutish behaviour appears to be a real problem in Bourne, especially at weekends, but the authorities are doing little about it. This is a reflection of life in Britain today, where society is becoming increasingly lawless and the rules and regulations passed by our various legislative bodies that ought to govern our lives and maintain a harmonious society, are being flouted daily. While the police continue to take a jaundiced, even anodyne, view of what is going on in Bourne after dark, especially at weekends, honest citizens will venture abroad at their peril, certainly when the pubs have just closed.

Autumn is upon us and as it has been a busy summer, we are taking a break for a few days. This column will not therefore be appearing next week but the web site will still be here so please keep logging on. Your continual attendance makes it all worthwhile.

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