Woods Ware China at the Serving Hatch

Harvest Festival time is upon us, and in 1934 the Lincolnshire Echo reported on an amusing incident at a village somewhere between Louth and Market Rasen. The newspaper snippet recorded: “Some wag had deposited a bottle of home-made wine among the decorations, having evidently an idea that the juice of the fruit should be given its due place. The service was being conducted by a well-known Lincoln local preacher, and he was delivering his address when there was a loud pop. The heat of the building had caused the wine to ferment and the cork flew out of the bottle. It narrowly missed the preacher and proceeded on its aerial journey towards the ceiling.” Instagram: @Woodswareservinghatch

I’m going to blow my own trumpet here and declare myself as a tombola expert. If you have a selection of crappy prizes that you want to palm off on others in the name of charity, I’m your girl. I know exactly the ratio of non-winning to winning tickets that you need and how to work out how much your tombola will raise. I can’t give you a formula for this – it’s all in my head. I need to have the cloakroom tickets in my hands. I’m the cloakroom ticket whisperer.   Of course, this comes from years of experience. And I also learned very early on that if you are in a public arena, you’re best off not offering an alcoholic prize.   If you’re at an Old Tyme Teadance go ahead and ply the over 60s with gin and whisky – that demographic are mad for it. But if there are going to be children present – don’t do it. It means that you can’t sell tickets to kids and the under 10s love a tombola so you’re cutting off your main market. Best off pandering to this age group with prizes of sweet

In 1951 the Evening Herald reported on discussions on how to mark the Festival of Britain in Walberswick, Suffolk. During discussions at the village hall (where else?) the provision of a “tittertorter” was mooted. The Chairman of the Parish Council shed some light on the old-fashioned sounding piece of equipment. “No doubt most people would call it a see-saw.” In the end, the villagers went against the tittertorter and opted for swings and a sandpit instead. Towns and villages all over Britain were encouraged to do something to mark the Festival in 1951, from commissioning benches to holding galas...the iconic symbol can still be seen in many places - I've seen one on a bench in N E Lincolnshire and one on a wall by the park in Newark Click here to read one of my Festival of Britain inspired short stories which was posted as part of another blog

The archives contain many stories of villagers building new community halls   in the 1920s and 30s – either raising the money to bring in professionals or pooling labour and expertise to physically build it themselves. Villagers in Bishop’s Cleeve, Gloucestershire, decided to convert a 14 th century barn after waiting 30 years for a venue to service the growing population. The conversion was finally completed in the summer of 1956. First of all, the barn had to be bought from the church for £500 – it had previously been in the possession of the Bishop of Worcester. Apparently nine government ministries got involved in the process. The barn had to “retain historic interest.” What did Bishop’s Cleevians want to use it for? Saturday night dances and flower shows were top of the list, but there was also a county library, public meeting room, welfare clinic and kitchen. In a farsighted measure, parking was to be provided for 50 cars! Here’s the Google image of the old

Extracts from report in the Worthing Herald, 5 th December 1941: “Unless the Entertainments Committee of Lancing Traders’ Association pays for two broken tables, an electric lamp and some crockery, alleged to have been broken at a dance given by them in Lancing Parish Hall, they will in future be refused permission to use the hall. The Clerk, Mr F Badcock, reported that the breakages occurred in October, and since then much correspondence has passed between himself and the Secretary of the Traders’ Association Entertainments Committee, but he had received no reply to his last two letters. A further complaint from Mr A Lingard, that the seats in front of the parish hall could be placed in a more useful position was rejected.” Google Street View - are those the same benches, are they still in an unuseful position? Instagram @woodswarechinaservinghatch Amazon  I have a lovely selection of books - all very cheap!

In April 1959, The Times reported on a bit of a hoo-ha at Chedzoy Village Hall, Somerset. Trouble had erupted when the parishioners objected to the local vicar taking his dog to church with him. Reports on what exactly took place in the meeting that followed are a little patchy, because the vicar had thrown the press out of the village hall. But the sound of raised voices was heard, along with the bandying of remarks such as “dictator”. Google street view of Chedzoy Village Hall - imagine intrepid reporters crouching under the windows...   Further into the newspaper report , it emerges that the pious pooch wasn’t the only issue.   Miss Tucker (Organist) and her sister, also Miss Tucker (Assistant Organist), had recently been dismissed due to a lack of co-operation. One wonders how an organist could fail to co-operate with a vicar. Did the Misses Tucker start taking requests from the congregation? Had they played the wedding march too fast, catching him unawares? Had t

One Woman One Job You only ever see her from the back Elbows at the sink Hands and forearms covered by rubber gloves Yellow, blue or pink. You might get a side view when hands are dried On the check tea towel But you’ll never see her stood at the hatch Or out on the prowl. Shy, but efficient in the sudding and Being on her feet Try to do the washing up before her Make her obsolete. Instagram: @woodswarechinaservinghatch

A Shropshire Whist Drive As told by D.M. Davies in the Autumn 1963 edition of ‘The Countryman’   Having been invited to join a whist drive at a village hall in Welsh border country, DMD groped along dark and wet roads to get to this country happening. He was settled at a table among steaming limbs, and served a cup of tea by the local angels of the tea urn. There was some delay as the M.C. hadn’t turned up…it transpired that he had forgotten and gone to bed but he was dragged forcibly from the arms of Morpheus to do his duty with the handbell. The games began and DMD was faced with the task of translating the not so discreet signs that were given off by the other players. But he was given a reprieve when the fire siren went off. Half of the men jumped up to attend a small blaze that had flared up in Mrs Jones’ oven. Those remaining were treated to not just more tea, but community singing too. Once the fire was extinguished, the whist drive continued. DMD was informed t