Matrons Who Cannot Keep Maids

In 1938, the villagers of Ewelme in the charming Chiltern Hills seemed to be having a disagreement about whether they needed a village hall or not. One resident wrote to the local newspaper, setting out the reasons why a village hall was needed. As well as a requirement for young people to be able to have recreation under supervision of their elders, the anonymous scribe railed at certain matron types in the village who displayed an “astounding attitude”.

“Are not these women the very ones who either loudly deplore the fact that they cannot keep maids because there is nowhere for the said maids to go in an evening? And also the ones who condemn their granddaughters for wasting bus fares to go to the cinema in Wallingford?”

Fair point, I would say. But the following point was even fairer:

“Who stood between ourselves and death 20 years ago? The lads of this brave little village…who would we call on again in like danger? Those same lads to whom a shelter for a concert or dance is denied.”

A poignant comment indeed to be making in 1938.

This goes to show who made the decisions in the feudal hangover days of not so long ago – the elderly, wealthy matrons who wilfully did not understand the needs of the young villagers. The social changes that the Second World War were shortly to bring were often sorely needed.

Here’s the image that turns up on Google Maps when you search for Ewelme Village Hall. They got one eventually. But judging by the architecture it took a war and a few more years before the premises were built.

Joyce Grenfell liked a pop at silly old matrons...read my collection of Joyce inspired stories - click here

Comments

Woods Ware China at the Serving Hatch - The Book!

I have now put together a book to accompany this blog, featuring all the best bits and much more besides, about the development and use of village halls over the past century. It costs £1.29 for a Kindle download and £3.99 for a printed version. Here's the blurb: "Enter any village hall and look at the noticeboard. The range of activities taking place these days is enough to keep anyone entertained. Cinema evenings, keep fit classes, scouts, Women’s Institute, St John’s Ambulance, lunch clubs, support groups - all keeping the physical and spiritual on the straight and narrow. Where would we be without the village hall? What a marvellous innovation, and one that seems to grow in importance as we realise that we have lost sight of community somewhat, and need to nurse it back to life. You might, if you were in a particularly philosophical mood while hanging around the vestibule, wonder where and how it all began." English village halls have been a fixture of our lands...

The Ode to the Village Hall

I hope that some of my own poems that I have published on this blog have raised a smile of recognition. But I’m not the first to write poetry inspired by village halls. Back in 1936, the Warwick Advertiser published an article about a Mr Smith, who had written a poem about the village hall at Hatton. This was so well received by friends and family, that he had 401 copies printed, and he sold them for a pound apiece. The profits were divided between the church fund and the working men’s club fund. Hatton Village Hall - the charming inspiration Happily for us, the Warwick Advertiser saw fit to publish Mr Smith’s acrostic: T his grand village hall which can scare be surpassed H as been built by one to remember those passed E ver thoughtful of others, kind friend of us all V ery ready to help and obey duty’s call I n summer or winter, in sunshine or rain L ending a hand without seeking to gain L ooking after the sick and helping the weak A nd a kind cheery s...

Dixon of Fingers Green

In what could be the script from a gentle BBC comedy of the 60s or 70s, the village policeman triumphed at the horticultural show in a small Kent village. The local bobby walked away from the Village Hall with 11 out of 14 prizes. A cub reporter from the local rag dared to ask the green fingered P.C. if he talked to his blooms, to which the answer came: "No." He was encouraged to elaborate: "Talking to them, singing to them, music, that's all a lot of tripe. There's no substitute for hard work. You have to treat them like children, water them and care for them." I suppose he's right. There are similarities. Both flowers and children are prone to infestations of little creatures. And they never quite turn out how you expect, but sometimes you're lucky. Have a look at my novella for more vintage gardening fun

Woods Ware China at the Serving Hatch

Search This Blog