Posts Tagged ‘market town’

The Band Played On — short story by Gladys Hobson

July 12, 2011

The Band Played On

Introduction

Ulverston, noted for its Thursday and Saturday market days, and various festivals throughout the year, is blessed with a number of musicians who willingly give of their time to entertain shoppers and visitors to the area. On Thursday mornings, throughout the summer as weather permits, a band is playing in the cobbled market square. During festivals, various bands — including the Ulverston Town Band — also play at weekends. Sometimes the whole town centre is taken over by stalls, musicians, singers, entertainers, Morris men and clog dancers, and all the fun of the fair! There is even a Dickensian Weekend, when to top it all, many people are dressed in historical costume. Add to this programme of events, the annual Carnival Day, plus the Charter Fortnight culminating in a lantern procession and fireworks, and it is clear that the town is far from sleepy!
I love to hear the band play on Thursdays. This is usually a small band of mostly elderly gentlemen dedicated to sharing their gifts with all who wish to listen. They have been entertaining for years and clearly enjoy what they do.
Standing listening, I find my feet tapping to the music, and when the band plays tunes like the Floral Dance, oh how I wish we wrinklies had the freedom to dance like children!

Today (Saturday July 9th 2011) there is a special event in the town — Furness Tradition — with music and folk dancers. Before long, small children who were watching closely began dancing too. The whole thing reminded me of the following story I wrote for my anthology, ‘Still Waters Run Deep, stories of hidden depths.’

(The words of the Floral Dance, were written by Katie Moss in 1917 during a long train journey home from her stay in Helston, Cornwall.)

The Band Played On.

In Ulverston’s sunny Market Square, the silver band of mainly red-faced elderly gentlemen gave a lively rendition of the Floral Dance, oblivious to the movement of shoppers at nearby stalls and tourists snapping photographs in front of them.
Children, bored with standing at stalls while their mothers looked for bargains, drew closer to the band intrigued by the hand movements that produced the jolly sound. One boy did a good impression of the trombonist, another lad puffed his cheeks and laboured at producing a sound from his invisible euphonium. Little girls laughed and tapped their feet. Before long, more children joined in, with watching adults smiling, tapping and clapping to the merry beat.
A weathered elderly gentleman, with long white beard wagging in tune with the music, began singing:
‘We danced to the band with the curious tone
Of the cornet, clarinet and big trombone…’
The Floral Dance, now in full swing, more girls were dancing and swinging each other round and around while others jigged about doing their own thing.
The music came to an end, but the crowd hooped and yelled for more.
The conductor bowed, turned to the band and raised his baton.
The white-headed, bearded gent took off his coat, threw it over the nearest stall and started singing again, his elbows keeping time with the music.
Shoppers left the stalls and gathered round; smiling, laughing and clapping while their children merrily danced or imitated the musicians and singer:
‘Dancing here, prancing there,
Jigging, jogging ev’rywhere…’
Market smells of fruit and vegetables, the scent of flowers, young women’s perfume, old ladies’ talc’, sweat, soap and aftershave, mingling with fresh air breezes; rainbow colours of summer clothing, moving sights and sounds — all swelling up to entrance and befuddle minds and bodies. Not one person immune to the hypnotic beat:
‘Bassoon, flute and euphonium…’
Maggie pulled away from the hand holding hers, and ran forward to join the dancing children in the cobbled square. Round and round, arms waving in time with the beat, laughing and singing the words she could easily remember:
‘Dancing here, dancing there…’
The crowd clapped and sang with her. Maggie’s movements became more intricate while retaining the essential simplicity of country dancing. Girls began imitating her and before long the market place became a throbbing beat of music, clapping and dancing feet. Heated musicians played on, mesmerised by what they had created.
‘Each one making the most of his chance
Altogether in the Floral Dance.’
Round and round and rou…
The crowd hushed, the music petered out, children stopped dancing.
The bearded, elderly man ran forward and fell to his knees by the side of the fallen fragile lady. ‘Are you hurt, Maggie?’
She opened her eyes. ‘Lovely, wasn’t it, daddy?’
‘Yes, my darling, you danced beautifully.’
‘I want…’
Maggie’s eyes closed. The elderly man put an arm under her shoulders and held the old lady to his chest, wiping away long strands of grey hair from her wrinkled face. Tears ran down his cheeks.
A large muscular man from the vegetable stall came forward. ‘Here, Lambert, mate, I’ll carry her into the chemist’s for you.’
The crowd, no longer hushed, parted and made way for the carried woman.
‘I’ve called an ambulance,’ someone told the old man as they entered the chemist’s shop.
The old man nodded his gratitude but his eyes told those present that nothing would bring his wife back to life again. Even through his tears, he smiled. ‘She loved to dance and sing, you know. The dementia didn’t rob her of everything.’
Outside the band began to play, We’ll Gather Lilacs.
‘That’s our tune. We sang it at our wedding reception.’ He drew in a deep breath and said in a determined manner, ‘Could I have a drink of water please?’
Lambert sat on the chair placed beside his wife, now stretched out on a couch at the back of the shop, and he hummed to the music of the band. He took the glass of water being passed to him, shook tablets from a small bottle he’d taken from his jacket pocket, and threw them into the back of his mouth, swallowing them down with the liquid. Then he took his wife’s hand and began to sing in a croaking voice:
‘We’ll gather lilacs in the spring again…’
His quivering voice petered out as his body slumped to the floor.
And the band played on…

Ulverston Carnival — Wild and Wonderful

July 7, 2011

(Click on photos to enlarge them) The sun shone for Ulverston carnival, making sequins flash as dancers performed and children laughed and jumped for joy!

The colours were truly magical, the costumes superb, the music rhythmical as girls and boys of all ages wriggled and romped or just strode along. Bands played, money jingled in boxes and buckets, and sweeties were handed to gleeful children. Everyone smiled, laughed and applauded the entertainers. Not a frown in sight as Ulverston gave itself to merriment.

Well done all those performers — slim or bonny, short or tall, and all shapes and sizes in-between — who donned their costumes and gave of themselves so merrily. So too the musicians who blew and banged and gave their all.















































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AND SO THIS POST ENDS WITH A BIG BANG FROM THE DRUM!

Ulverston – the festival Town of Furness, Cumbria

October 26, 2008

And the band played on

And the band played on


This photo was going to be for a story “And the Band Played On” in my new short story book, but it is not what I really wanted as, due to bad weather, they had a pavilion cover and not all their members are present. It certainly is not good enough for the book cover should I have decided to have the story for the book title.
The stories centre around this area, and are quite diverse – humour, horror, murder, mystery, love, passion, bizarre, beautiful. If I stress the local settings will l then put readers off? After all they could take place anywhere.
Getting title and picture right within the total book cover design is not easy. Bad enough thinking up a title that will draw readers like a magnet. I guess this is where cover artists are needed. But, if the book is to earn a little for charity, there will be no money for that!
Oh, decisions, decisions!

Magpies Nest Publishing
Writing For Joy
My Space Gladys Writes
My Space June Designs

Ulverston… birthplace of Stan Laurel

August 14, 2008

Ulverston… birthplace of Stan Laurel

Ulverston's great hardware store

Ulverston's great hardware store


Want to take a step back in time? Then visit Ulverston’s hardware store on King Street — Smith and Harrison. Not only does that place bring back memories of my youth, but I have found it the friendliest place in town. The TV Two Ronnies sketch involving ‘fork’andles.’ It could have been filmed here!
Take a walk by the Chippy Bank and you come to the Laurel and Hardy Museum — much visited by our American cousins. So far I have not ventured inside. I did not find them funny when I was young but my sister did — she kept digging me in the ribs and telling me to laugh!
Go by the cross on Thursday’s market day and you may see and hear a band play, at least in spring to autumn. Follow the cobbled street, passing by the market stalls and you will come across The Tinners’ Rabbit Bookshop: a quaint old shop full of nooks and crannies, plus a little fireplace with a real fire in winter. (There’s even an armchair to sit in!)
There are plenty of places to visit including a delightful canal that goes nowhere and a lighthouse monument on Hoad Hill — fantastic views across the town, Morecambe Bay, fells and mountains.
Warning! Watch how you walk. Old water-worn paving slabs and cobbles are not meant for stiletto heels!