Fourth series, episode 18
All 150 episodes are available here on the HebWeb.
This 150th Murphy's Lore includes the sad demise of Tina Crumb, a break in the lakes, two John Lennon tales, nude men reading the Brontës, Maggie Smith reflections, and a reader writes.
Stubbing Wharf Storytelling
In amongst a variety of brilliantly delivered folk tales, apart from one guy, about my age, who mistakenly thought he could sing despite a croaky voice and his inner Joyce Grenfell saying, 'George … don't do that!', I told a cautionary tale and went down rather well. Perhaps this is because most people have at some time found their clothes stuck to a discarded ball of chewie or bubble gum on a park bench or pub table.
Hear the sad tale of Tina Crumb, who met her end from chewing gum …
Tina Crumb
Avoid the fate of Tina Crumb,
Who loved to chew on chewing gum.
As muscles in her mouth rotated,
It made her parents irritated,
But they'd been told by Dr Hayes,
'Don't rise to it, it's just a phase.'
But when that gum had lost its taste,
She did not seek a bin for waste,
But secretly, if she wor able,
Stuck balls of gum beneath the table.
Till some adhered to Aunty Hilda,
On her best dress – she would have killed her!
But mother, seeing t' situation,
Banned forthwith gum mastication,
And banished Tina to her room -
A punishment that sealed her doom!
For Tina had a secret hoard
And chewed on it when she wor bored.
And in self-pity Tina wallowed,
Two dozen sticks of gum she swallowed!
But chewing gum, each time we swallow,
Fills up bits that should be hollow.
And after her unhealthy feast,
Miss Tina Crumb was quite deceased.
The Doctor told her tearful Mum,
'Your daughter's all bunged up ..
… By gum!'
Tina Crumb
Health Warning
Noticing his absence, the Shaggy Dog committee were distressed to discover that a member, who has belatedly been nationally acclaimed, has contracted the shingles virus and is in a bad way. PW experienced the painful and now lingering discomfort of contracting the viral infection, and advises: If you are over 50, book your free NHS shingles innoculations now! But she also adds advice from another close friend: if you do contract the virus, especially if it affects your face, ask for an anti-viral application from your local chemist within the first five days of infection.
A mini break, a mini break, the 5th one of the year …
Now, I didn't mind driving to the Lakes, especially as PW doesn't like driving in heavy rain. My problem was Charlotte Sat Nav giving me directions in my right ear and Dearly Beloved complaining about the hyper-active, automatic wipers in my left lug, whilst also checking the road ahead, the Satnav map, the rear view mirror, the gear stick and the speedometer. Eventually, I slalomed across both lanes approaching a roundabout southwest of Skipton. Fortunately, there was no vehicle in my wake, but I told PW she was bamboozling my brain. She kindly kept her counsel for the rest of the journey, and in that respite I found a little gadget that slowed the wipers as we tootled past Kendal.
Three minutes from our destination, Charlotte directed us up a muddy farm track, smugly claiming, 'You have reached your destination.' Which I ignored because of the large sign on the opposite verge emblazoned with the legend: The Punch Bowl Inn, with an arrow pointing us up a steep, ancient, sunken lane.
Miraculously, the rain and the wipers stopped, the sky cleared and the sun came out, as I pulled into the pub carpark.
Our room was a decent size, with a large window providing rural views stretching to the thin deep blue line of the Irish Sea. When my diminutive but punches above her weight Mrs sat on the low to the floor dressing table stool, the dressing table mirror only revealed the top half of her face. So she could work on her hair but had to use guesswork when applying her lippy. The shower was in a tiny space, with a plastic door that clunkily folded inwards as I pushed it open. So I stood outside the shower cubicle, testing the temperature with an outstretched hand, which first got scolded and, after a further twiddle of wheels and knobs, was cold as a Lakeland cataract. Eventually, I grinned and bared it, and stood for a few agonising seconds under the waterfall setting, smearing liquid from the tiny freebie shampoo and conditioner bottles, although not necessarily in the right order, as there was no shelf provided for our normal sized bottles.
Mind you, the evening meal lived up to the boasts on the pub website and the staff were attentive and friendly. But as the diners retired to their rooms that evening, the fans in every bathroom joined in a prolonged, discordant, droning chorus, as we did our bedtime ablutions. These hi-tech fans reacted to body heat and came on even when I tried to sneak into the bathroom without turning on the light … even if I passed the bathroom with the door slightly ajar.
That night I took a Boots own brand sleeping tablet to avoid needing a wee in the wee hours. If you're a light sleeper like me, you might be best advised to get a cheap cottage in Crosthwaite, and book your meals (as many locals did) at the idyllically situated, gastronomically four star, Punch Bowl Inn.
Levens Hall
Just down the road from The Punch Bowl is Levens Hall, with its famous topiary garden, which is wonderful. And full of wonder we wandered, pausing to watch a topiary trimmer pruning an ancient yew from the top of a very tall ladder, with shouted instructions from a woman who might have been a garden designer far below.
Almost as good as the topiary were the avenues of ancient parallel hedges which shielded a maze of slightly muddied walkways, leading suitably amazed first time visitors like us to unexpected openings affording vistas of far off hills or hidden ponds, statuary and gardens.
You can't take photos inside the ancient house, but it's worth a visit. PW asked one of the volunteer attendants about the remarkable leather and silver embossed wall coverings, which cost the equivalent of £100,000 a roll in Tudor prices, though over the centuries much was thrown away and burnt as fashions changed.
Afterwards, we drove on to Windermere, looked round a few shops and then caught a bus to Bowness. The driver noticed my Metro card and told us we could travel free of charge on buses throughout England, which we didn't know.
On our journey home, we parked at Booth's supermarket in Kendal and explored the ancient Shambles area, vowing to go back for a return visit in the near future – as long as it's not raining.
Steve, Andrew and John Lennon
Back in sun kissed Hebden Bridge, I bumped into local B&B owner and ace photographer, Andrew Smith and told him how much I'd enjoyed Steve Tilston's recent gig at the Trades.
Andrew admitted he didn't know much about Steve Tilston, so I described his music and told him Steve was the singer songwriter who belatedly received a long lost letter from John Lennon. The note included John's phone number. Steve would have phoned him if the letter had been sent on to him all those years ago. In response to this long lost letter event, a film called Danny Collins, starring Al Pacino was made in Hollywood.
Andrew didn't know about Steve Tilston's connection to John Lennon. Despite his brilliant photography, his biggest claim to fame was his photograph of his then girlfriend sitting on fellow student Keir Starmer's back in their student days at Leeds University. But he did tell me his own Lennon story.
When Lennon was appealing to the US authorities for permission to live in New York, despite drug misdemeanours in the UK, his lawyers contacted Andrew's father for advice. Andy's dad wrote the leading texts on UK law and he sent Lennon's lawyers his advice on the ex-Beatle's legal position. John thanked him and sent a note asking what the fee was for his services. Smith Senior responded that he wasn't a paid lawyer, so £100 would do. John Lennon duly sent him a signed cheque for £100.
Andrew's dad cashed it.
Nude men reading the Brontës
Talking of brilliant photographers, Michael Ryan posted a photo of three naked men lolling against the bar at The Golden Lion. The event was a few years back and, par for the course, I missed it. When I asked Mick about it, he sent me a Guardian article by Lara Williams entitled: And now for a nude lifeguard reciting Jane Eyre … my night with Naked Boys Reading the Brontës. One of the readers had a PHD in gender and sexuality, and he introduced his extract from Wuthering Heights, by saying, "The nudity provides two things: a new lens and modality for the texts, and the care-giving experience of being read to."
So it all made sense really.
Maggie Smith
Watching a compilation of TV interviews with the great actress, I was struck by her honesty. Most actors do promos for their next film or TV series, but her responses were carefully considered and truthful.
Afterwards we enjoyed watching The Quartet, the directorial debut by Dustin Hoffman, his homage to this country, its grand country houses and gardens, our brilliant actors and musicians. It's a great and necessary relief that not all dramas are dramatic, even though The Quartet dealt with the universal theme of ageing, losing our looks, faculties, friends and lovers, as we approach our inevitable demise.
In dreams I talk to you
I dreamt I was mates with the weasel faced Radiohead singer Thom Yorke, who it turns out lives in a small cottage at Blackshaw Head. He finds me a bit too ebullient and loud and tells me to 'Tone it down.' But then he takes me down to his cellar which opens out to a space as large as a supermarket carpark which he uses for rehearsals and parties without disturbing his neighbours. Strangely, there's a quiet background track to this dream, which includes the line, 'But the drugs don't work,' by a guy called Richard Ashcroft of The Verve. All of which woke me up.
Then I looked up all the names of the bands and singers I'd dreamt about but hadn't listened to and wondered if my subconscious was again telling me to listen to more popular music – as it did with Johnny Cash and his Hurt video. The following day Thom Yorke was in the news, something to do with one of his records being linked to a production of Hamlet.
We've enjoyed
The brilliant but harrowing Sambre, depicting the three decade real life saga of a serial rapist hiding in plain view. The three part documentary The genius of Mozart, which educated me on the composer's life, by using well-chosen talking heads and magnificent, awe inspiring music. Also, the detective comedy, Ludwig, starring David Mitchell and Anna Maxwell Martin.
Readers Write
The Picture House and asylum seekers
Thanks to Ian Denno from Friends of Hebden Bridge Picture House Committee for sharing the team's enjoyment of my writing and wondering if I know of the great work by committee members Kate Higham and Moya O'Donnell in organising cinema visits for members of the asylum community in Calderdale. The pair have developed the successful Making Friends scheme for a number of years now, often giving people their first ever trip to the cinema.
Extending from this, Ian wrote about the Making Friends Kitchen, "which involves asylum seekers in preparing community meals, sometimes for their own community and sometimes for the public in events in Hebden Bridge. This is often the first time those cooking a meal have had chance to use a kitchen since leaving their homes." My Editor, Chris and I hope to meet up with the committee soon, so the HebWeb can provide a news spread in the near future.
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