Twenties had plenty for all

No, I don’t remember it (I may look nearly 100 but can confirm that I’m barely half that); the reason, I think, is that back then, there seemed to be an extraordinary number of quirky stories, just dropped in matter-of-factly as if the details contained therein were everyday occurrences.

Take, for example, the single paragraph included in the edition of June 24, 1922, telling of the man who found a nest of eggs by the roadside and placed them in his barrow. “When he returned to take the barrow home, the sun had hatched out ten pheasants!” the story concludes.

And that’s that. No fuss. No puns. Not even a headline.

Other stories can be quite gruesome and yet are all presented in the same, take it or leave it, manner – which I must say I rather like.

Here’s one from a couple of weeks earlier, June 10, 1922.

“An accident of a most unusual character occurred in the wheelwrights’ yards of George Attwood and Sons, Marlowes, Hemel Hempstead, on Wednesday.

“A large rum barrel was being mounted on a carriage and wheels for use as a farmer’s water cart, and Mr G. Attwood Jr, was engaged in fixing a water cock to one end when the barrel suddenly exploded with a terrific report.

“Mr Attwood was blown into the air some distance and sustained severe injuries – lacerations and burns – to the chest, arms, head and eyes. One of his workmen, Horace French, 16, of Weymouth Street, Apsley, who was assisting him, was struck in the face by a fragment of wood or iron, and sustained a fractured jaw.

“Both were removed to the West Herts Hospital with all possible speed. The injuries to French are not serious but Mr Attwood was on Thursday reported to be in a very serious condition.

“The exact cause of the explosion is not certain but it is suggested the intense heat caused the generation of highly inflammable vapour may have been ignited by  a spark from a bolt which was being hammered into position.”

A sensational tale which needs no ‘beefing’ up with sensational extras. It is what it is.

In the edition of June 19, 1926, another tale caught my eye.

Headed “A Snake Charmer at Work: What the Naturalist Could Not Explain” it’s not very local – in fact the tale contained occurred in Egypt. It is taken from an “excellent book of reminiscences” called Diversions of a Diplomat by Frank Rattigan who , incidentally, was playwright Terence Rattigan’s father (although the author of such classics as The Winslow Boy and The Browning Version was only 15 at the time).

Anyway, Frank Rattigan describes a feat by an Egyptian at Luxor who claimed direct descent from the Pharaohs, and attributed a miraculous power he said he had to his all-powerful ancestors. I’ll let Rattigan tell the story.

“To prevent trickery, he was taken to a private garden, and before entering he removed all his clothes.

“He then walked in, and commenced an impassioned harangue, Egyptian Arabic differs considerably from the Moorish dialect, but I understand enough to realise he was summoning all the snakes in the garden to obey the powers he had derived from his Pharaoh ancestors and come forth.

“Not many moments elapsed before he had finished his harangue and I saw a long, thin snake sliding towards us. It was followed by another and another, till about a dozen snakes had come out on the path where we stood, been picked up by the snake man and stuck into a basket.

“The man asked if we wished him to gather scorpions. We replied in the affirmative and he then turned to an old wall and exhorted the scorpions to emerge. At once a large one came out of a hole in the wall, the man picked it up and placed it on his open palm.

“The scorpion immediately stung him, drawing a few drops of blood, but the man paid not the slightest attention to this. Surprised, we asked him if it did not hurt him. He replied: ‘Not in the least’ and holding the scorpion out to me, said: ‘Let it sting you and I will cure you in one moment.’ I confess I thought it wiser to take the will for the deed and therefore declined the offer.”

It’s no surprise, reading that, that young Terence grew up with such a way with words.

Another piece from the same year, but this time the edition of July 3, takes us again across the water – and again it’s well worth repeating.

Headed “Japanese Proverbs”, it reads:

“Instead of ‘More haste, less speed,’ the Japanese say: ‘If in a hurry, go round.’

“While we crudely say: ‘Accidents will happen in the best regulated families,’ the Japanese put it: ‘Even a monkey will sometimes fall from a tree.’”

All well and good. The article continues in this vein for a while before coming up with the following: “We say ‘Oil and water will not mix’ and they say: ‘You can’t rivet a nail in a custard.’” I stop there because we’re really not going to beat that.

Some of the court cases reported in the Watford Observer in the 1920s are also truly extraordinary.

One from June 17, 1922, tells of a gentleman from Pitstone in Bucks who was summoned for driving a horse and van without having proper control, at Watford, a couple of weeks earlier.

It seems at about 3.30am, he was seen by a policeman in Hempstead Road, Watford, fast asleep in control of a horse and van.

The court chairman said it was a very serious offence as considerable damage might have been done, and fined him two quid – no doubt quite a lot in those days.

Another shocking case was reported in the Watford Observer of June 9, 1923, when a Watford man pleaded guilty to driving a motor vehicle at the whopping speed of 17¼ miles an hour.

In his defence, he said he had no idea he was going so fast, and hoped the bench would be as lenient as they could, since he was an old soldier. They fined him a pound.

Another story which caught my eye was from June 21, 1924, and was headed Hair Lost From Lightning.

It’s quoting from the British Medical Journal, and reads: “Three Manchester children were in bed when the house was struck, all lying on their right side. A fortnight later the hair on the left side of the children’s heads began to come out, and in a few days this side was quite bald.

“The right side, which was protected by the pillow, escaped. Three months after the lightning, the hair was slowly growing again.”

Coming closer to home, how about this paragraph about the Watford Silver Prize Band, from the same edition:

“New uniforms are required by the members of the Watford Silver Prize Band. Some of the bandsmen, it has been publicly stated, have grown so stout they cannot properly button up their tunics.”

A week later, they’d moved from taking the mickey out of fat musicians to people’s names.

“Even a list of persons qualified to vote at elections provides some interesting reading,” the Watford Observer declared on June 28, 1924.

“In the last list for the Hemel Hempstead Division, we notice one voter is named Fish and his next door neighbour, Monger.” Well worth a paragraph of anyone’s newspaper I reckon – as is this tale, from June 27, 1925, about a baffled sleepwalker.

“A somnambulist at Berkhamsted had an unpleasant experience a few days ago,” it states. “At an early hour in the morning he was found walking along the High Street bare-footed and clad only in a slumber suit. A friendly policeman escorted him to a hotel, where he was put to bed and made comfortable.

“But it was not the hotel at which he was staying and when he awoke, a messenger had to be dispatched to the other hotel to fetch his clothing. The experience does not fall to many men of going to sleep in one hotel and waking up the next morning in another.”

No indeed.

Finally, a sporting item. Sport wasn’t at the back end of the paper in those days, any more than news was right at the front. But I’ve left it to the end anyway and this item from June 23, 1923, is certainly extraordinary enough to warrant a repeat mention.

“There was a curious incident in the match between Chesham and Wycombe on the former’s ground on Saturday. A batsman returned a ball with great force, it struck a player’s arm, bounced off, hit the umpire’s hand and then dropped into the pocket of his white jacket. A four was claimed and given.”

Not sure whether the rules have changed to prevent that sort of thing happening now. Does anyone know?

ONLINE TOMORROW: A sketch of old Watford from 1921