By Nigel Clarke, Keeper of the Records for Holsworthy Court Leet

As they have done since the reign of Henry II the Officers of Holsworthy Court Leet met on the eve of St Peter’s Fair to debate matters affecting the Manor and put forward suggestions for improving matters of concern, safe in the knowledge they would never be acted on.

Things started reasonably well as the Town Crier finally acknowledged that God is now saving the King and no longer our late Queen. It was soon apparent that not only had our monarch changed, so had the Portreeve for as Barry Parrish led the rest of the court into the hall he was no longer the man wearing the Portreeve’s gown.

“It’s true,” said Barry. “I know the whole of the Manor will be devastated to know that my time as Portreeve is finally coming to a close and for the next three years you will have to put up with Richard Brown as Portreeve.”

Richard thanked Barry for these kind words. He supposed Barry had done his best, however modest that might have been, but it was time for a fresh face at the helm. Well it was certainly true that it was a different face, although, attached to a man in his late seventies of generous build and sedentary habit, it was debatable how fresh it could be described, certainly fresher than the Keeper of the Records who had lost interest and was doodling vaguely on the Agenda. With the Keeper of the Records not paying attention it may have been at this point that Aletaster Mike Johns pushed to the front of the stage, or possibly not, but at some stage anyway which the Keeper of the Records really didn’t appear to notice, Mike did push his way to the front of the stage and presented the Portreeve with what he claimed was called a “cuddle, which comprised a block of wood which Irish people give each other for luck” but which sounded more like a handy way for Mike to get rid of some of the rubbish from his garage.

It was time in any event to commence the Court’s proceedings so the new Portreeve tentatively banged his gavel, declared the court in session and asked the Keeper of the Records to confirm that all the officers had been duly summoned. The Keeper of the Records struggled reluctantly to his feet and confirmed they had, so the Portreeve instructed the Town Crier to call the Roll. The only change from the previous year was the appointment of the now unemployed Barry Parrish to the post of Aletaster which Richard had filled for the last few years with some distinction. The Town Crier then called the Roll of Officers as follows: Portreeve Richard Brown, Town Crier and Beadle Roger Dunstan, Keeper of the Records Nigel Clark, Keeper of the Purse Lyndon Piper, Constables William Oke, Russell Dymond, Alex Piper and Nicholas Piper, Aletasters Michael Johns, Philip Cole and Barry Parrish, Reviewers of Encroachments and Nuisances Dennis Veale and Richard Godfrey, Janitors John Addicott and Christopher Osborne, Parker Pamela Johns, Breadweighers Annette Dennis and Adam Chidley, Hedgeviewers Philip Ford and Rodney Parrish, Houseviewers Allen Jones and Hilary Vivian, Lane Driver Crispin King, Pinder Terry Allcorn, Hayward Brian Soby, Custodian of Weights and Measures Robert Painter, Searcher and Sealer of Leather James Rowland,

All the Officers declared themselves to be Adsum apart from three who were Absit. The Portreeve decided not to fine them, although the thought that he now had the power to do so was too great to resist so by way of compensation he fined Nick Cousins ten groats for “failing to control his wife”. The previous day the Portreeve had been standing on the pavement in Fore Street with his wife and the Keeper of the Records discussing important Court Leet matters when Nick had driven by with his wife who promptly stuck her head out of the window and shouted to the Portrevene. Such overfamiliarity with the town’s leading lady could not be tolerated so if Tara Cousins wished to avoid the stocks she better not do it again.

The Portreeve enjoyed that brief exercise of his new powers especially since he now had to listen to the record of the previous meeting. He knew it would be yet another load of tedious waffle from the Keeper of the Records. In the event it was even worse than he had feared as the Keeper of the Records ground to a complete tongue tied stop in the middle of Janitor Chris Osborne’s petition about the fate of Putford Pete’s pet pink pot bellied pig Pat. Clearly the Keeper of the Records was past it and the Portreeve determined to pension him off immediately after the meeting. As the records finally dribbled to a finish the Portreeve grabbed the record and heaving a sigh, signed without further comment.

Every year the Portreeve presents Citizenship Awards to a boy and a girl from each of the town’s schools and a cheque from Holsworthy Lions Club to the person from the Community College judged by the school to be the most promising art student of the year. This year the children nominated by the primary school were Hazel Godwin and Marston Caldecott. As had happened last year the date of the meeting unfortunately clashed with a school residential day so they were unable to attend. The Portreeve had however arranged to visit the school later in the week to present their awards. The community college hadn’t nominated any girl this year but the boy winner Aydan Johnston was in attendance and the Portreeve was pleased to present him with his certificate. Unfortunately the Art Award winner Lacey Mae Petersen-Morris had been obliged to cancel at the last minute because of illness in the family so the Portreeve would make other arrangements to give the cheque to her.

The Portreeve then took the opportunity of welcoming the Lords of the Manor and other distinguished guests to the meeting and congratulated a number of people with local connections who had achieved something of note during the year.

Time was moving on so the Portreeve called on his predecessor Barry Parrish to present the Chronicles of Holsworthy since the last meeting. Barry was clearly not happy and complained about the recent development on the northern edge of the town done without any regard for the improved infrastructure required. Local services had continued to deteriorate, including the loss of all our banks and chemists, with only a pharmacy at the medical centre. Dentists were vanishing and the roads full of potholes. The Town Crier had developed a very shaky idea of when King Charles III had acceded to the throne and none of the public clocks seemed to be working. Thank goodness he finally agreed that not everything had gone wrong. Remembrance Day had been well attended as had the carnival. Easter eggs had been distributed by an Easter bunny which bore a striking resemblance to our town mayor. HATS had put on some excellent productions during the year and both our cricket and football clubs were flourishing. The Twinning Association had celebrated fifty years of twinning with Aunay sur Odon in Normandy with a visit to France where our mayor Nigel Keneally made a splendid speech in their Town Hall, and finally, Abbeyfeld and the Flower Club both celebrated their fortieth anniversaries.

It was a nervous moment for the new Portreeve not knowing what on earth might happen as he called for petitions. The first petitioner to step forward was Pinder Terry Allcorn. He hadn’t been Pinder for long and had been researching his duties. Unfortunately he had misheard when he was first appointed and thought his duties had something to do with Tinder, so he went on Tinder and followed their instructions. Unfortunately all he got was a stream of young ladies seeking dates. He’d been swiping left for days but still found no reference to the Court. He was on the edge of despair when he mentioned it to Janitor John Addicott who was able to put him right. Now suitably informed about the difference between Tinder and Pinder he googled Pinder and discovered it meant the “Pound Man” who was responsible for impounding straying livestock which, if not claimed, would be sold and the net proceeds paid to the Lord of the Manor. Fired with enthusiasm he hastened to Coombes outfitters to buy a flat cap. Charlie Yelland duly measured his hat size then went on to take measurements for his neck, chest, waist and inside leg. It seemed a bit over the top for a cap, but he supposed Charlie was thinking of future business, just like local undertaker Kelvin Isaac looking you up and down speculatively when talking to you in the street.

Armed with his new cap with a dust coat, green wellies and shepherd’s crook from Mole Valley Farmers he set off to find the Common Pound. After making enquiries it appeared it had unsurprisingly been situated in the corner of Fair Park just off North Road. However most of it had subsequently been built on and used as a store by the agricultural merchants Thomas Oke & Son. The Manor needed a new location for the Pound and he suggested it should be somewhere central like the alley leading off the Town Square next to the aptly named Shepherd’s Hardware shop. It would be an ideal location and he awaited the Portreeve’s instructions. It seemed he would have to wait a little longer. The Portreeve had spotted Kelvin Isaac in the hall looking at him and was somewhat disconcerted. Perhaps it would be better to move on and take a petition from the Custodian of Weights and Measures Robert Painter.

Robert confessed that he hadn’t done it for a while and was out of practice. What on earth was he talking about. Most of the Officers were out of practice doing more or less anything. Eventually it transpired he was referring to standing before the court. When the Portreeve had cornered him and told him it was high time he did his bit again he hadn’t a clue what to do. He pondered for a couple of days but nothing, naught, zilch, nix, zero, nada. It was becoming a bit worrying. After a few more days of lost appetite and nights of little sleep it was not just a bit worrying. It was really worrying. He would just have to bite the bullet and admit defeat. It wasn’t worth all this worry.

There were only two things you needed to worry about. Either you were well or you were sick. If you were well there was nothing to worry about. If you were sick there were two things to worry about. Either you get well or you die. If you get well there was nothing to worry about. If you die there were two things to worry about. Either you went to heaven or you went to hell. If you went to heaven you had nothing to worry about. If you went to hell you’d be too busy catching up with your old friends to worry. Having shared these pearls of wisdom, Robert promptly sat down. One had to admit he had dodged the problem of a petition very neatly.

The Portreeve realised that it was easier to press on than call Robert to account so he called for the next petitioner Janitor Chris Osborne who announced he would like to relay a story which had no ending and was about Putford Pete’s friend Bradworthy Bert. The Keeper of the Records sat up abruptly. He was still suffering from trying to relate the story of Putford Pete’s pet pink pot bellied pig Pat in the Record of last year’s meeting. If it was as difficult as that he was glad the Portreeve had decided to dispense with his services. In the event it proved just as bad, if not worse. Bradworthy Bert had been to see his doctor about his ear. To give you a small flavour (more might make you feel quite queasy). Bert is sent to see the practice nurse:

Er sed “Ello Bert, what be you doing yer?”

Ee sed “I’m yer about my yer”

Er sed “Whadee mean, you’m yer about yer yer?”

Ee sed “I can’t yer nort in this yer yer”

Er sed “Bert, you was yer last yer about yer yer.”

Ee sed “I knaw I was yer last yer bout me yer, but twadn this yer yer, ‘‘twas this yer yer last yer”

That gives you an idea of the difficulty that would be confronting the Keeper of the Records next year. The Portreeve making no attempt to enquire further about Bert’s yers wisely changed the subject and asked the recently appointed Hedgeviewer Rodney Parrish how his new job was going. Rodney reported that although he was keen to pursue his new career he was running out of hedges to view as more and more housing estates spread across the Manor. This was causing an entirely different set of problems which needed to be addressed. The Portreeve should recruit new Officers to be potholes fillers, pavement repairers, dog poo removers and shabby premises restorers. Also he might consider acquiring an additional Constable with a sniffer dog. All these ideas were interesting, but, in view of the dearth of hedges for Rodney to view, perhaps he could fill his spare time by tackling the dog poo and potholes himself.

As Rodney retired to his seat to consider how many poo bags he should order the Portreeve called for a petition from Breadweigher Adam Chidley. The first time he had attended the court was thirty years ago when his grandfather had been an officer. The only thing he remembered from that occasion was not having a clue what it was all about and nothing had changed, even some of the officers who had bored him then were still boring him now. Those of us who could remember sitting on the stage in 1994 tried to look inconspicuous. It was clearly time for a change. For a start, to promote easier contact we should set up a WhatsApp group. Lyndon Piper was the man to deal with this and would be happy to do so since he hadn’t used his phone for over an hour now. Several of the Officers’ functions needed updating. The Aletasters had had their day and we should switch to chai latte tasters with bubble tea for those who couldn’t have caffeine after midday. The Keeper of the Purse would become the Keeper of the online banking password, which of course would need to be kept simple. No change would be needed to the Breadweighers and he and Annette would remain the Paul Hollywood and Mary Berry of the Court. The court should have a team building day and after considerable research he had commandeered the redundant Deer Park minibus and put down a deposit for a day of action packed adventure at the Adrenalin Quarry in Cornwall on the Monday of next year’s Fair Week so the officers would be pumped up for the yearly meeting the following evening. To some relief from the older Officers on reflection he might be being a bit hasty and it might be better not to change anything and then, just maybe, one day he might climb far enough up the greasy pole to wear the Portreeve’s tricorn. The Portreeve regarded him dubiously. It didn’t look as if Adam would be climbing very far up that greasy pole any time very soon.

There was just time for one more petition and after some shifting around the lady officers moved to the front of the stage. They had a proposal to put to the court. Like other officers who had spoken before them they were concerned by all the new development going on with little thought of the impact. Prices were well beyond the pockets of retired officers. However they had a solution. Using the considerable funds built up by the Keeper of the Purse we could purchase the empty former care home Deer Park and turn it into a communal living complex for the older officers with a series of activities for them including crochet classes, quingo racing and regular trips to sample the bright lights of West Putford and Chilla, even on occasion venturing abroad to Delabole in Cornwall. It would be so much better than living in one of these new anonymous looking little boxes Sure enough this was their cue to burst into the old Pete Seeger hit Little Boxes with suitably amended lyrics to highlight how where: “There were oak trees and hedgerows and butterflies and birdsong, sheep agrazing that’s all gone now. we’re left with boxes all the same, and owners will play the golf course, and drink their Martini dry, and they all have two electric cars, and a cockapoo or two.” It was very well done and attracted a great deal of applause.

It seemed a good time to wrap up the meeting on a high so after the Portreeve reminded the officers to meet in the cockpit at 8am the following morning for the reading of the Proclamation he summoned the Aletasters the follow him on a tour of the town’s pubs and closed the meeting at 8.52pm.