'I suppose you heard as Miss Allsopp was married last week!Would you ever!Miss Allsopp,old James'daughter,the boot-and-shoe Allsopp.You know they built a house up at Pye Croft.The old man died last year from a fall;eighty-three,he was,an'nimble as a lad.An'then he slipped on Bestwood Hill,on a slide as the lads 'ad made last winter,an'broke his thigh,and that finished him,poor old man,it did seem a shame.Well,he left all his money to Tattie:didn't leave the boys a penny.An'Tattie,I know,is five years--yes,she's fifty-three last autumn.And you know they were such Chapel people,my word!She taught Sunday school for thirty years,till her father died.And then she started carrying on with a fellow from Kinbrook,I don't know if you know him,an oldish fellow with a red nose,rather dandified,Willcock,as works in Harrison's woodyard.Well he's sixty-five,if he's a day,yet you'd have thought they were a pair of young turtle-doves,to see them,arm in arm,and kissing at the gate:yes,an'she sitting on his knee right in the bay window on Pye Croft Road,for anybody to see.And he's got sons over forty:only lost his wife two years ago.If old James Allsopp hasn't risen from his grave,it's because there is no rising:for he kept her that strict!Now they're married and gone to live down at Kinbrook,and they say she goes round in a dressing-gown from morning to night,a veritable sight.I'm sure it's awful,the way the old ones go on!Why they're a lot worse than the young,and a sight more disgusting.I lay it down to the pictures,myself.But you can't keep them away.I was always saying:go to a good instructive film,but do for goodness sake keep away from these melodramas and love films.Anyhow keep the children away!But there you are,grown-ups are worse than the children:and the old ones beat the band.Talk about morality!Nobody cares a thing.
Folks does as they like,and much better off they are for it,I must say.
But they're having to draw their horns in nowadays,now th'pits are working so bad,and they haven't got the money.And the grumbling they do,it's awful,especially the women.The men are so good and patient!What can they do,poor chaps!But the women,oh,they do carry on!They go and show off,giving contributions for a wedding present for Princess Mary,and then when they see all the grand things that's been given,they simply rave:who's she,any better than anybody else!Why doesn't Swan &Edgar give me one fur coat,instead of giving her six.I wish I'd kept my ten shillings!What's she going to give me,I should like to know?Here I can't get a new spring coat,my dad's working that bad,and she gets van-loads.It's time as poor folks had some money to spend,rich ones 'as 'ad it long enough.I want a new spring coat,I do,an'wheer am I going to get it?I say to them,be thankful you're well fed and well clothed,without all the new finery you want!And they fly back at me:"Why isn't Princess Mary thankful to go about in her old rags,then,an'have nothing!
Folks like her get van-loads,an'I can't have a new spring coat.
It's a damned shame.Princess!Bloomin'rot about Princess!It's munney as matters,an'cos she's got lots,they give her more!Nobody's givin'me any,an'I've as much right as anybody else.Don't talk to me about education.It's munney as matters.I want a new spring coat,I do,an'
I shan't get it,cos there's no munney..."That's all they care about,clothes.They think nothing of giving seven or eight guineas for a winter coat--colliers'daughters,mind you--and two guineas for a child's summer hat.And then they go to the Primitive Chapel in their two-guinea hat,girls as would have been proud of a three-and-sixpenny one in my day.Iheard that at the Primitive Methodist anniversary this year,when they have a built-up platform for the Sunday School children,like a grandstand going almost up to th'ceiling,I heard Miss Thompson,who has the first class of girls in the Sunday School,say there'd be over a thousand pounds in new Sunday clothes sitting on that platform!And times are what they are!But you can't stop them.They're mad for clothes.And boys the same.
The lads spend every penny on themselves,clothes,smoking,drinking in the Miners'Welfare,jaunting off to Sheffield two or three times a week.
Why,it's another world.And they fear nothing,and they respect nothing,the young don't.The older men are that patient and good,really,they let the women take everything.And this is what it leads to.The women are positive demons.But the lads aren't like their dads.They're sacrificing nothing,they aren't:they're all for self.If you tell them they ought to be putting a bit by,for a home,they say:That'll keep,that will,I'm goin't'enjoy myself while I can.Owt else'll keep!Oh,they're rough an'selfish,if you like.Everything falls on the older men,an'it's a bad outlook all round.'
Clifford began to get a new idea of his own village.The place had always frightened him,but he had thought it more or less stable.Now--?
'Is there much Socialism,Bolshevism,among the people?'he asked.
'Oh!'said Mrs Bolton,'you hear a few loud-mouthed ones.But they're mostly women who've got into debt.The men take no notice.I don't believe you'll ever turn our Tevershall men into reds.They're too decent for that.
But the young ones blether sometimes.Not that they care for it really.
They only want a bit of money in their pocket,to spend at the Welfare,or go gadding to Sheffield.That's all they care.When they've got no money,they'll listen to the reds spouting.But nobody believes in it,really.'
'So you think there's no danger?'