Norman Clegg Was Here

Holmfirth, a village in England, will always be a special place. For it was here that writer Roy Clarke's TV series "Last of the Summer Wine" was filmed. And it was here that Norman Clegg, a character portrayed by actor Peter Sallis, lived. Norman wasn't the most colorful personality in "Last of the Summer Wine." He didn't capture our hearts with outrageous antics or memorable catchphrases. Instead, he was just a kindly old gentlemen. An everyman.

Norman Clegg has his foibles and human frailties. He had a hard time saying no to people, whether it was to the latest schemes of his friend Foggy Dewhurst, or to shopkeeper Auntie Wainwright, who never let him leave her store without selling him something. He was afraid of women with a temper, such as Ivy and Nora Batty, as well as women who might have designs on his future, such as Marina, that bloom of eternal youth. As such, I suspect Norman Clegg became the character most of us could empathize with in "Last of the Summer Wine." 

Out of all the posts I wrote on "Last of the Summer Wine," ones that had Norman Clegg in the title got the most page views. One piece in particular, "Catching a Glimpse of Norman Clegg's House," has become my all-time popular post. Why do you think that is, when the piece represents my frustration over being trapped in a bus tour on a rainy day in Holmfirth, and not having a good view of Norman Clegg's house? Is it because, of all the characters on the show, we most want to visit his house, and see how he lived?

As Norman Clegg was an everyman, we can empathize with him. We can imagine ourselves as him, walking along the river in Holmfirth with Compo, or through the memorial park while listening to Foggy's latest scheme. Perhaps we imagine standing beside Norman and gazing down at Holmfirth Church. Does he remind us of someone we've known and lost? Does he remind us a little of ourselves? 

We may not idolize his fear of loud, angry women, but we can certainly understand it. And who among us does not have trouble saying No to persistent salespeople and folks promoting worthy causes? Norman Clegg was kind, gentle, and easy to be with. Who wouldn't want to be with him, or for that matter, be more like him?

Can you imagine Norman Clegg sitting beside you while you read this post? Who does he remind you of? A relative? A special friend? The family member or role model you never had? The person you'd like to be? Or...

Dragon Dave

The Link Between Michael Moorcock & Ashley Jackson

Science Fiction and Fantasy author Michael Moorcock may not view himself as a world-builder, at least not in the same category as the Bronte sisters, but their fiction clearly influenced him. After all, when most of us hear the term world-building, we tend to think in Hard Science Fiction terms, like knowing the gravity of a planet, its orbit around its sun, its age and the atmospheric makeup, those sorts of things. The type of writing that authors like Peter F Hamilton, Gregory Benford, and Dan Simmons do so well. Or we think of it in terms of Fantasy novelists, who construct elaborate histories for their invented lands, families whose heritage goes back thousands of years, and structure them with class systems and people filling the necessary tasks to enable such a world to function. This brings authors like J. R. R. Tolkien and Steven Brust to mind. But clearly, the stories of the Bronte sisters evoked characters, a society, an era, and landscapes that were so important to Michael Moorcock that, when asked a question about world-building, the first writers that leapt to his mind were Emily, Anne, and Charlotte Bronte.

Another person touched deeply by the sisters' work is artist Ashley Jackson. While enjoying the comfort of a warm bus during our "Last of the Summer Wine" tour in Holmfirth, England, the guide pointed out the artist's studio, and suggested that it was worth visiting. Later that day, we did just that, and saw canvases covering the walls, and set upon easels, all evoking the grey, stormy weather we had enjoyed that day.

Enjoying a rainy day outside Holmfirth inside a warm bus
on our "Last of the Summer Wine" tour.

During our visit, a sales associate handed us a brochure, in which Ashley Jackson described some of his favorite views in and around Holmfirth. So the next day we set out on the route Ashley had outlined for us, and drank in the lush, green surroundings.

Taking the Ashley Jackson walk outside Holmfirth.

If you're a fan of the British sitcom (or Britcom) "Last of the Summer Wine," or for any other reason ever decide to visit Holmfirth, you can download this map at Ashley Jackson's website.

Ashley Jackson has often said that what the Bronte sisters did with their pens, he attempts to do with his brushes. Throughout his life, he has aided several Bronte causes, such as saving landmarks that inspired their stories. Also notable is that he usually only paints during the winter when the sky is cloudy, and a storm is imminent. He even paints during the rain! Imagine painting watercolors onto a canvas, while standing in a wet field, the wind blowing the rain horizontally into your face. This is Ashley Jackson's world. While he depicts the world of today, his paintings transport you back in time, so you can see the world through the Bronte sisters' eyes. 

Pausing for a steak pie and a Diet-Coke in Haworth,
before seeing more of the Bronte sister's hometown.

Even if I never associated world-building with the Bronte sisters, or for that matter with Michael Moorcock, there's no doubt that the best authors fill readers with visions of their fictional landscapes, and imbue them with a reality that makes us desire to visit them. (Or inspire us to write similar stories, or evoke such landscapes and realities in some other artistic form, such as Ashley Jackson does). How else can one explain the tremendous popularity of such small, out-of-the-way towns like Holmfirth and Haworth, isolated locales in which TV writer Roy Clarke and literary icons Emily, Anne, and Charlotte Bronte set their stories? 

Taking in the views a short walk from Haworth.

Now, if only one could visit Elric's home of Melnibone, and enjoy a tour inside a comfortable, warm bus. Provided I was assured that Elric's sword Stormbringer wouldn't drink my soul, I'd sign up for that. Well, maybe...

Dragon Dave

On Not Slaughtering A Cow

As mentioned in yesterday's post, recent travel has left me with depleted mental focus and resolve.  While I got some productive work in on my dragon novel this morning, I had to drag myself back to the keyboard this afternoon, and my mind offered up more objections than ideas.  So again, I returned to Yorkshire.  This entry may seem slight to some, but it's what I could write today.  I hope you'll enjoy it.

No cattle in sight.

According to Herriot County, a booklet in the Discovery Guides Heritage Series, the Yorkshire Dales town of Hawes served as Darrowby Cattle Mart in the TV series “All Creatures Great and Small.”  We had planned to visit Hawes, for an entirely different reason, on our first drive through the Dales.  But the road system through the Dales can be confusing to those weaned on the larger and more descriptive traffic signs in the United States, and before we realized it, we had missed the turn.  So it was that we found ourselves visiting Hawes on our return visit to the Yorkshire Dales.

It was a good day to visit, as the town was holding its weekly market day.  Unlike our aborted visit to Leyburn, Hawes offered numerous places to park, many of them for free.  We found a nice place along the road, just outside of town, where I snapped the photograph in yesterday’s post.  Then we walked in and merged with the crowd.

It was easy to see that we weren’t locals.  While many wore T-shirts and shorts, we wore slacks and heavy jackets.  Nor were we tempted by the little white ice cream stand, again unlike many of the locals.  But we soon found ourselves touring the stalls, and seeking out bargains at the temporary stands.  While my wife found several purses she liked, none won her over completely.  I considered a leather wallet, which would better fit British paper currency than my smaller one made for US bills, but decided against it, based upon how little I would use it. 

A close up, so you can better see the white ice cream stand.

Two books called to me.  The first, Tree and Leaf by J.R.R. Tolkien, contained an essay called “On Fairy-Stories” which I’ve long wanted to read.  The second All I Ever Wrote, was a collection of skits by Ronnie Barker.  In the end, concerns about packing space and weight won out.  I could always borrow Tree and Leaf from the library back home.  As for the latter, the only TV series I ever saw the famous British comedian in was “Open All Hours,” which was written by Roy Clarke.  I had no doubt I would enjoy reading his sketches, but as with the Tolkien book, that bedeviling question arose: Did I really need it? 

(I hate you, wretched question!  When will you stop plaguing me?  I ask that, and then I look around at my office, with my double-stuffed bookcases, and boxes and files piled on the floor, and I am forced to concede to the question’s wisdom.  Still, like Paul, just because I suffer from a thorn in my flesh, does not mean I must enjoy the experience!)

We saw no cattle for sale that day, which was for the best, as the management where we were staying would likely have objected had we slaughtered an animal on their front lawn.  Nor could we eat so much meat before we left England.  Besides, I just didn’t feel in a slaughtering-mood.  So we purchased a carton of strawberries instead.  They might still leave red stains on the fingers, but eating them involved less work, and was far kinder to the cows. 

I have a feeling, if I lived on a farm in the Yorkshire Dales, that I might not eat a lot of meat.

Dragon Dave

Related Dragon Cache entries

Hijacked By Cows in the Yorkshire Dales: Part 1

Related Internet Links

On Fairy-Stories by J.R.R. Tolkien

Ronnie Barker

The Mistress of Skeldale House: Part 3

This clearly does something.  A mixer of some kind?

In the books by James Herriot (the pseudonym Alf Wight used, as veterinarians at that time were not allowed to advertise their work in any way), as well as in the TV show “All Creatures Great and Small, Mrs. Hall runs Skeldale House and cares for Sigfried, James, and Tristan without assistance.  When James got married, Helen was able to help her out.  For a time, the couple had their own apartment on an upper floor, and Helen prepared their meals in her smaller kitchen.

We don’t get a chance to see that smaller kitchen in The World of James Herriot.  The museum has reorganized and modernized the building.  There’s an area showing a film on Alf Wight hosted by Christopher Timothy, who played James Herriot in the TV series, an elevator for the handicapped, and an upper floor split between a children’s educational area and a museum space displaying numerous tools the veterinarians would have used.  There’s even a reproduction of the studio sets that gives you an idea of the spaces the actors would have moved around in when the production crew filmed the interior scenes.  Still, there’s much to see in the kitchen, including an array of foods and household products that derive from an earlier era.

Doing laundry the hard way.

Mrs. Hall was responsible for not only feeding the men, but also for cleaning the house and doing their laundry.  As my wife and I studied the kitchen, a spritely older lady and her grandson entered, and we listened as she reminisced about how her family had done this or that in their own kitchen before World War Two.  I asked her the purpose of one particular item, and she gave me insight on that object, as well as on a host of others.  For example, in addition to feeding the cream-colored stove, the wood Tristan chopped would have gone into the bottom of this brick-lined heater.  Water would have been poured into it.  Once the water reached the appropriate temperature, it would be poured, via buckets, into the device below.

Your 1930s washing machine.

While you would have scrubbed out hard-to-remove stains using the board set above the brick-lined warmer, you could have removed less-resistant stains with this washing machine.  The only problem: it didn’t agitate your load of clothes automatically.  So you poured in the hot water, and dumped in your clothes and the detergent.  Then you grasped the handles and moved them back and forth (and back and forth, and back and forth) for ten minutes, or fifteen minutes, or until they were clean.  Then you wrung the excess soap and water out of each item with the rollers.  After that, you took them over to the kitchen sink, where you rinsed each article of clothing in cold water (unless you wanted to heat up more water) to remove any remaining soap.  Then, it’s back to the rollers to remove as much water as possible.  When all that was done, you hung them up to dry: outside if the weather was nice, inside if it wasn’t. 

No wonder Roy Clarke, like James Herriot (or, if you prefer, Alf Wight), was in awe of these tough Yorkshire women.  Running a kitchen in the 1930s would have required strength and endurance.  Sigfried, James, and Tristan might have had to rush off at a moment’s notice to attend animals.  The men worked long, hard hours.  They endured freezing temperatures, howling winds, driving rain and snow.  They risked constant injury from working with such large and powerful animals.  Mrs. Hall’s tasks took her to the shops in Darrowby (or, if you prefer, real-life Thirsk).  Her duties kept her busy inside Skeldale House.  Her job offered less chance of injury, or contracting a life-threatening illness from exposure to the elements.  Yet, from touring her kitchen, I’ve gained new respect for the real woman who so devotedly cared for her three veterinarians.

And I’ve gained new appreciation for my fridge, microwave, washer, dryer, and yes, even frozen dinners.

Thanks for following my historical musings,

Dragon Dave

I Miss Sid

"Okay Ivy, what's on the menu?"

I fell in love with the TV show, “Last of the Summer Wine,” in the mid-90s.  Foggy, Norman, and Compo’s misadventures led them all over the Yorkshire countryside.  Over the years, series creator Roy Clarke assembled a large cast of characters, often too large to include everyone in every episode.  Yet two things seemed certain.  Whatever “the boys” got up to, Compo usually provoked Nora Batty, and the trio would end up at Ivy’s Café.

Yet Ivy’s Café was never spelled out on its windows, but merely CAFE.  So it came as a surprise to me when, a few years ago, the BBC began issuing the 1970s episodes on DVD in Region 1 (for the U.S. market).  Suddenly, the boys didn’t encounter just Ivy in the Café, but a man as well.  I came to realize that this man was her husband Sid, and the café was named after him. 

"Um...choices, choices."

At first, I wasn’t sure what to make of Sid.  Like most people, he seemed a jumble of contradictions.  Sometimes he was a meticulous owner, refusing to give Foggy a paper napkin unless he purchased more than just a cup of tea.  Other times, he dispensed food and drinks without regard to the cost.  Some days the trio’s antics irritated him.  On others he shared Foggy, Norman, and Compo’s childlike enthusiasm.  Yet, if Sid erred more in one direction than the other, it seemed he secretly longed to sneak out of the café with his friends, and share in their life of irresponsibility.

Earlier in his life, Roy Clarke had worked as a policeman in a small Yorkshire mining town.  Everyday, he watched the workers spill out of the Earth, like ants abandoning their underground world.  After long shifts working in dark, confining, and dangerous environs, these men sought to shake off the day’s responsibilities with a little revelry.  Yet the town offered them little in the way of diversions. 

Roy Clarke noticed that the women in this town were made of even sterner stuff than the men.  Yes, their husbands might hew the rocks from the very Earth; they braved claustrophobia, dust-inhalation, asphyxiation, and the constant danger of tunnel collapse, yet it was these browbeating Yorkshire women who kept the men from spending all their hard-earned money on drinking, gambling, or letting off steam in some other manner that would get them into trouble.  Later, when he created “Last of the Summer Wine,” Nora Batty became a personification of those tough miner’s wives.  Sid’s wife Ivy was another.

Ivy (and Compo) keep me in line.

Like most of us, Sid yearned for adventure, but had someone who constantly reminded him to be responsible.  He might bark at Compo, Foggy, and Norman, particularly when their attempts to help him do some job in the café ended up wasting his time (or otherwise earned Ivy’s ire), but he secretly admired them for their freedom.  

Occasionally, Sid found some excuse to join his friends in their forays, such as to the golf course, or, in the 1977 episode “Jubilee,” to help the vicar with the Queen’s Silver Jubilee celebrations.  In the feature-length special, “Getting Sam Home,” he used the café’s catering van to help his friends.  It seemed that Sam, having returned that same day from the hospital, had yearned to visit his “affectionate friend” after his wife went to bed.  Foggy, Norman, and Campo helped him get there, but the visit proved too rigorous for his delicate constitution.  To save Sam’s wife from humiliation, Sid helped Foggy, Norman, and Compo quietly return Sam’s body before his wife realized he had snuck out.  Then, when Sam’s wife kept her husband’s body in the shed until the viewing, he helped them transport the body back to…say, you don’t want me to tell you the whole story, do you?

"Hold on a minute!
What's all this about 'Exterminating' my dessert?"

Sadly, John Comer, who played Sid, died in 1984.  “Getting Sam Home” was his last appearance on the show.  Due to his advanced throat cancer, even his voice had to be dubbed by another actor.  Yet it is a testament to Sid’s enduring spirit that Ivy carried on running the café in his name right up to the end of the series: nearly thirty years later.  Now, when I watch “Last of the Summer Wine” episodes filmed after John Comer’s passing, I remember how Sid’s eyes usually lit up when his friends entered the café, and how, occasionally, he talked Ivy into letting him tag along with Foggy, Norman, and Compo for a little revelry. 

I miss Sid.

Thanks for reading,

Dragon Dave

Related Dragon Cache entries

The Well-Trodden Path

A Quiet Man in the Star Wars Universe

Richard the Lionheart in “The Crusade”

Related Internet Links

John Comer

Sid’s Cafe