Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
What I also liked was the way the town crier had referred to the 'main stage,' as if there
were many different stages. There was in fact just the one, and the word 'stage' was a little
generous. It was a trailer with a gazebo on it.
When the town crier had finished his address we went and had a chat with him because
he looked lonely.
Willium Chapman was well into his eighties but a lively character who had fully em-
braced the role of Town Crier, which he had held for many years. During the ten minutes
that we spoke to him, we learnt about his time in the Royal Army Medical Corps and his
career as a paramedic. He told us that he was one of the oldest Town Criers in the country
and, get this, the oldest Town Crier IN THE WORLD to have a Blue Peter badge. Yes, you
read that correctly. He was the oldest Town Crier in the world to have a Blue Peter badge.
He even showed us the badge, which was pinned to his costume.
This seemed a bit weird to me at the time. Blue Peter has been going for 50 years, but
even if Willium had got his badge during Blue Peter's first year he would have been well
into his thirties. What sort of grown man sends drawings into Blue Peter?
'I think guests who appear on the show also get badges,' said Ben, when I voiced my
concerns to him later. 'They're not just for kids who send in drawings.'
'Ok, good. That's a relief,' I said.
Idiscoveredlater,that,likePeterthePotterinBath,Williumhaddiedpeacefullyinhos-
pital, aged 87, a few weeks after we had met him. It was very sad to think that two such
vibrant and colourful characters had passed away so soon after our journey. It was a real
privilege to have met both of them, and each made their mark on our trip in their own
unique way.
I would like to make it clear that we had nothing to do with the death of either of them.
'Oyez! Oyez! Oyez! Good people of Newent, please welcome to the stage… ' said Wil-
lium, pausing to look at his script, '…Würzel.'
Suddenly, Newent was transformed. One minute it was full of grannies filling their
shopping bags with onions, crocheted toys and unwanted tombola prizes. The next, all the
dad-rockers, and emos had come out of the cracks and completely packed the town square
in front of the stage.
Würzel emerged sheepishly through the flap at the back ofthe gazebo and picked uphis
guitar. He was a wispy little man wearing blue jeans and a
Motörhead
t-shirt, despite leav-
ing the band in 1995. His hair was grey and scraggly and gave credence to the story that he
was given his nickname after his resemblance to the scarecrow Worzel Gummidge.
He was joined on stage by a drummer and bass-player and he muttered a brief 'Hi,' be-
fore launching into a very entertaining ten minute rock 'n' roll instrumental. He then left
thestagewithanawkwardwaveandthemassesbegantodisperse.Thenavoicecameover
the PA system that gave one of the most surreal announcements I have ever heard:
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