Childhood Regrets

As we get older and look back down the road of life we inevitably remember many things we regret. All my life I have had a passion for birds, I refer of course to the feathered variety. From a very young age I was always fascinated by them. As a young kid, like most other kids of that era, I had a collection of birds eggs. We would trawl miles of dyke's and hedgerows looking for nests and when we found a nest with eggs, which we didn't have in our collection, we would take one from the nest. When we got home we would carefully make a hole in each end of the egg with a pin or a needle, blow from one end until the yolk ran out the other end. When the egg was completely empty it went into a shoe box with sawdust in the bottom and eventually we built up a collection. At the time we didn't know any better and never gave a thought to how cruel this seemingly innocent activity was. I look back now and regret that I ever did it. Worse still, around this time I also used to catch birds. This was done by propping up an old garden riddle with a piece of stick. A long string, that led into the house, was tied to the stick and I would hold the other end of the string whilst watching through the window. Pieces of bread were put under the riddle towards the back with a couple a pieces left outside. When the birds had eaten the bread outside the riddle they would then have the confidence to go under the riddle for the rest of the bread. I would then yank the string, the stick would be dislodged and the riddle would fall trapping the poor unsuspecting bird inside. This way I was able to look through the top of the riddle and observe the birds close up. After studying them for a few minutes I would lift the riddle and allow the birds to fly away. One fateful day a blue tit went in to get the bread and as usual I yanked the stick away and ran out to watch him. Unfortunately, as the stick moved he realised the danger and started to fly out, only for the edge of the riddle to come down on the back of his neck which killed him. I remember to this day holding him in the palm of my hand and bursting into tears. I never ever tried to catch a bird again and to this day I regret I ever started.

John Cartwright (1862-1944) - Part 4

Today we continue the remarkable story of John Cartwright, as told in his own words. In Part 4 John talks about electioneering and fox hunting.


The Life of John Cartwright of Blankney Fen from the age of twelve years


Now for a bit of electioneering. When I was in Lincoln about 1880 Colonel Chaplin was one of the members, but he lost his seat about that time, a great riot taking place when the poll was declared, finishing up by breaking all the windows in the front of the Saracen's Head Hotel, and they succeeded in rolling a barrel of blazing tar down the entrance. Mr. Pitcher just got the big doors fastened in time. I used to attend all the Squire's meetings in Lincoln. Once when arguing with a man in favour of the Squire, another man turned to me and said "Oh, I see you are one of old Chaplin's tenants". "Yes you are right" I said "and proud I am of it". "Well" he said, "I hear old Chaplin feeds his tenants on barley chaff dumplings buttered with wool". After that, you may be sure a broad smile came on my face. Writing about the old Squire I must mention the rent audit which he attended at the Bristol Arms, Sleaford. Bob Lill, a Fen-side character was also amongst us. Brother Jim, Frank Godson and myself had a bit of fun with Bob, tying a serviette round his top hat, and managed to get it on his head without him seeing it. Then he walked into the street. We got one of the maids to run after him telling him he was stealing the Bristol Arms property. Of course old Bob was very much annoyed and said "John's done it, I know he has". I got my first Fox's brush out of Bob Lill's yard. It was the first meet of the hounds Lady Florence attended. The fox was lost there for a time, and when the followers had gone up the road I saw the fox laying on the top of the barn, which was thatched in those days. I ran on the road and shouted for all I was worth. The Squire brought the hounds back and put his hand in his pocket and said "Here Lill, here's a tip for you for keeping your eyes open". I thought it a bit off, as I saw the fox first. I told Harry Dawkins the Huntsman the tip should have been mine. He said something to her Ladyship and I got the brush, and went home with a nice blooded face, greatly alarming poor mother when I opened the room door, but holding up the brush soon put the matter right. It was not intended to kill the fox there without giving him the chance to escape, the hounds being taken the far end of the buildings out of sight, but unfortunately when disturbed he turned round and ran the full length of the buildings and jumped bang into the pack. I had to make a speech about this that day at the Bristol Arms dinner. The Squire asked someone to respond for the fox hunters. Old Bob shouted out "Ask John, he knows something".

Don't miss the fifth and final part of John's story in tomorrows Journal.

Thought For The Day

Are EXIT signs on the way out?

Wednesday Brainteaser - Answers

Wednesday's brainteaser was Anagrams, rearranged the letters spelt out the names of English towns. Here are the answers:

01 Shrewsbury
02 Walsall
03 Cambridge
04 Chester
05 Burnley
06 Grimsby
07 Brighton
08 Southport
09 Falmouth
10 Cheltenham

9/10 Excellent 7/8 Very Good 5/6 Good Below 5 - you should get out more.