Your village Straw-plaiters, human scarecrows; heavy smokers and Pirton’s quip for a king
Sometime in the middle of the last century, a Pirton housewife would often rise at four in the morning and begin plaiting for all she was worth. When three or four hours had passed she would hurry round to the village pawnbroker and leave her plait “in pawn” until she could pay for the little food handed to her across the counter for her family’s breakfast.
Knowing Pirton as it is today, that true story has an incredible ring for the village is far from poor. In fact, properties are notoriously dear. How different in the 1850s!
Old Loo can be heard re-counting over a pint in “The Fox” to-day, tales of Pirton’s former poverty. One of these which draws the most gasps from the audience tells of how he earned a living in his early days by planting beans. “They paid 3s. 6d. an acre,” he will say. And waiting for you to assimilate that fact, adds: “And if they all came up, an extra threepence was paid.”
They were the days when coprolite digging was drawing to a close and plaiting was at its height. There are men in Pirton to-day, including Old Loo, who will relate how they plaited during lessons at school. Everyone plaited from toddlers to cronies; and with families of a dozen it can be imagined what a prodigious output the village managed.
“Cold and want of boots” At the age of five, the little tots began to learn the basic stages of plaiting from mother who would do the straw splitting and clipping of the finished plait. When six, the children would go to a straw plait school where they were supervised by a mistress who read to them, or an alternative led them in singing – chiefly the church collects. Writing was an extra and was one of the few subjects during which it was not possible to plait as well. Scholars would take home, perhaps, seven or eight yards of plait completed in the morning.
The Pirton schoolmaster of this time was apparently disturbed by this continual industriousness. His account in October 1877 reads: “Several of the elder children still absent gleaning . October 29: Attendance not so good in consequence of the fair, many children not paid their school fees. Sent the ‘A.N. Other’ children back for their money, but didn’t get it. Several of the infants have commenced attending only half time, being kept at home to plait. December 10: Very poor attendance – colds and want of boots. 1880, April 26: Fred B. returned with a penny with the message that his mother would not pay 2d. May 3: Mrs. B. kept Fred at home all week rather than pay 2d. 1886, July 5: Several children absent. Excuse – mothers have no money: fathers in hay country. November 28: Invested in a cane for the first time.”
The fairer sex found a big advantage in plaiting – their tongues could be busily employed at the same time. It was a common sight to see lines of girls marching up and down the road, their long skirts trailing in the mud or dust, gossip and plait flowing from them as fast as they could go. Thus it was the children who supported the family, and it was probably an advantaged to have a large family, in order to have more fingers twisting and turning the plait. One person could produce 12 score in a week and received 1s. 6d. a score.
Once a week the mothers or eldest daughters walked to Hitchin along a none too good road and sold their plait to Luton dealers. These would line the Market Square and thoroughly examine all the work and buy accordingly. The sellers were then told to go to a pub where they would be paid. On arrival they would invariably find a great jug of beer awaiting mutual consumption. In due course the merchants arrived and paid out.
Evidently these outings to Hitchin were jolly days, for reports say that they “always had a good time”. Pirton villagers did not have much time for entertainment, but when time was made it was used wholeheartedly. Fairs were held twice a year, when the village green was covered with stalls, various mechanical “thrills”, and general merrymaking for three days.
Tom the Dulcimer The feature which remains most firmly fixed in the minds of old Pirton people was the dance which wound up the revelry. It took place in a large barn, no longer existing, rented from the owner by a man known as Tom the Dulcimer. He was evidently a businessman to be reckoned with for he not only hired the premises and took all the money for admission, but was “the Band”. He would play for hours on a dulcimer charging 2d.for one dance per person, or 1s. for the night’s entertainment. The time limit was supposed to be midnight, but, judging from the accounts handed down from the employers of the village, festivities continued until dawn; and they did not look for a good day’s work from any of their employees after a fair.
Plaiting was still with them, despite the merrymaking, for those who did not wish to dance were allowed to pay entrance and invariably watched their companions frolicking while they sat round steadily plaiting. Plaiting affected the local farmers who found in some cases that it was more profitable to grow special brands of wheat more suitable for wheat straw for plaiting than corn. The condition of the straw, which had to be sown thickly for fineness and reaped before the ear was ripe was a matter of great importance. The top two joints only were taken from each straw and of those the top one was the better. Dealers came from the towns around and inspected the samples from the ricks, taking particular care to hold them to the light to ascertain whether they were spotted – such were only of use for dying.
Another branch of the straw trade was the supplying of straws to the plaiters. This was done by hawkers, who went from house to house or stood in the Market Place, hawking their supplies. Dyed straws were also produced and sold according to the prevailing fashion of the time. Before using this, the plaiters had to dip them in water prior to splitting which was done on simple but effective tools said to have been invented by French prisoners of war, while they were at Yaxley Barracks near Stilton, from 1880-1815.
The school children’s excuse mentioned above, that they had no money because father was in the hay country, referred to the hay country around Barnet, to which their fathers would set off on foot to find work. It would appear that this was looked up-on as an annual outing to be enjoyed, for in the main a man’s life was incessant hard work. Other than those activities connected with agriculture and the few additional jobs which awaited the head of the house when he got home, such as assisting in clipping the plait, rolling and splitting and so on, the life of the farm labourer had few variations. Up at dawn or before, and bed about nine o’clock; such was the usual routine. His training began at the age of seven when he would be tumbled out of bed at 6 a.m. to assist in frightening crows, carting manure or following the plough. For this he would be paid from 2/- to 3/- a week.
Mr. Charles Handscombe, now rural councillor for Pirton, is but one of the villagers who will testify the wage and recount how lucky they thought themselves to be able to keep a penny of the 3/- for pocket money.
Pirton’s beauty There are many attractive corners to be found when walking around Pirton, usually of cottages and trees, which appeal to the imagination in the way which villages do – a mixture of character and beauty. Two of the larger buildings of interest, Hammond’s Farm and Pirton Grange, are pictured with this article. There are others well worth a visit. Their period, as is so often the case – such as Highdown which had mention last week – is Elizabethan. First there is Rectory Manor and Farm to be seen with the moat still half encircling them. Of chief interest is the tithe barn. Built massively of oak beams, its construction is masterly, well braced and tied, and gives one the impression that no gale could beat it. The house, as again is so often the case, is no longer able to be maintained by a single family and at present provides a useful home for the work of Mrs. Hurdman Taylor who cares for the elderly ladies now in occupation.
Pirton Hall is not an architectural beauty but is now serving a useful purpose. It was rented by Beds County Council five years ago and is now a home for 24 blind people, under the guidance of Mr. E.R. Turner. The Hall was built by the Hanscombes – an old Pirton family – at the time when coprolite digging was in its hey day.
It is a fact beyond compare that Pirton abounds in character. Anyone who knows the village will tell you this and it is typified by the numerous yarns and anecdotes which live by word of mouth in Pirton, and cannot be done full justice in this article.
The first concerns another Pirton building which was never intended as an architectural attraction. It was a small building on the middle of the Great Green known as the lock-up where troublesome Pirtonians would be interned for the night until they could be dealt with by law the following day. One well known Pirton character whose name is best with-held, was a frequent inmate of the lock-up and it can be heard related in the village with great glee how he was one night placed in the ‘cell’ and made a hullabaloo the whole night through – he had a wasps’ nest to keep him company.
Incidentally when this built lock-up was taken down a huge quantity of marbles was found above the ceiling. These arrived there through generations of marble-playing outside the lock-up; for if during the game one of the players thought the other was cheating he would gather up the marbles and fling them through the iron grating by the roof where they bounced and came to rest above the lock-up ceiling.
Then there were Faith, Hope and Charity, three Pirton characters who gained their nicknames by their method of asking for a drink one night. As was usual they had not a sixpenny piece between them and in a discussion outside “The Red Lion” one of them said in a clearly audible voice that he had Faith in getting some beer, another said he Hoped they would and the third declared it would be Charity if they did.
A Pirton couple were once mistaken for a steam engine! They were “Old Tom” and his wife. Both were furious pipe smokers and one day coming up the Holwell Road pushing their barrow of vegetable wares, one in front and one behind, on seeing this sight from the brow of the hill a passer-by swore that it was a steam engine. “Old Tom” was the possessor of a wooden leg – a reminder of the days when threshers were not safeguarded as they are today, for it was sliced off in one of the machines. He did however, enjoy his stay in North Herts Hospital, declaring it to be “like harvest home every day!”
Pirton quips a king Read in cold print, many of the Pirton tales smack of naïve prankishness, but it is soon realised on hearing them in Pirton that their meaning is deep and reflects a character both strong and virile. A character that was probably strongest in the days when “Valentining,” games of “shinny” and “tin canning” a man took place; when the old Hitchin steam fire engine would have its fire extinguished on stormy days by vast puddles on the road to Pirton – it also appears that the new combustion fire engine and pump was unable to suck water from Pirton pond for some unknown reason – and when a great procession used to stream through Pirton on Guy Fawkes night preceded by fireballs, giant balls of paraffin rag swung in circles between two men by means of wires. Unfortunately, there is not space to digress on these Pirton activities. Suffice to wind up with a story of a grandson of a Pirton man, another Tom, who sums up the bizarre but yeomen traits of the character of Pirton. This grandson was presented to King George V for bravery and skill as a bomb aimer in the First World War. “I suppose,” said the King, “that you would find it an easy matter to drop a bomb in an egg cup?” “No, your Majesty,” came the reply, “on an egg cup.”
