John Finnemore's Souvenir Programme series 9 episode 2

This is John Finnemore's Souvenir Programme.
[intro music]

Narrator: 2020: Hastings and Hook Norton

Russ:
Hi, mom.

[long pause]

Russ:
Yeah, I know -- can you hear me?

Deborah:
--can hear you fine. Oooh, here I am. Hiya!

Russ:
Hi, Mum.

Deborah:
Hello, love. How are you?

Russ:
Yeah, not too bad. How're you doing?

Deborah:
Oh, you know, bearing up as well as we can in these terrible times.

Russ:
Yeah. Yeah, same here.

Deborah:
Yeah. You're seeing plenty of people, though, yeah? Got plenty of zooms in?

Russ:
Uh, not really. I mean, Toby does, but Al and me, we're kind of keeping to ourselves at the moment. Hunkering down.

Deborah:
Okay, darling, but don't let yourself be isolated. Loneliness is the real killer.

Russ:
Is it though?

Deborah:
Well, no, the virus is the real killer, obviously. But loneliness is like its henchman.

Russ:
Okay, I'll watch out for that then. How about you? You managing to keep busy?

Deborah:
Managing? Never been so busy in my life with the zooms and the phone volunteering and now this big do we're having in the village for VE Day.

Russ:
But you hate VE Day!

Deborah:
Yeah, but I like big do’s. Anyway, I don't hate it. I'm glad we won and everything, I just think it's weird to still be celebrating.

Russ:
But you're gonna.

Deborah:
Yeah, massively. You know what the village is like -- any excuse to get their flags out. And like mugs Nazneen and I said we'd make face masks to use as bunting and then at the end of the day, people can just pull them off the, you know, the string thingy and take them home.

Russ:
You're having the time of your life, aren't you?

[long pause]

Deborah:
Oh, Russ... it's true. I'm going to hell, aren't I? I'm loving it! I mean, no, not loving it. These are terrible times.

Russ:
Terrible times.

Deborah:
Terrible! Only... it's really bringing the village together. The little spa's only letting two people in at a time, so we all queue outside at two metre intervals. You can be there nearly an hour if you time it right.

Russ:
Time it wrong, you mean.

Deborah:
Yeah, yeah, if you time it wrong and accidentally go when it's busy. And then every Thursday we all go out and do our clap for carers and then we just stay out and natter. And then there's the Zooming. You can Zoom anyone -- no one thinks it's weird. It's just what we do now. I talked to my old dentist yesterday. I was just going through my contact list, got to dentist, realised it was the Dover one, about to delete it, and then I thought, oh what the hell? I always liked her, I'll see how she's getting on. She was lovely!

Russ:
Course you miss me and Toby.

Deborah:
Oh, well, of course I do, you know that, I miss you terribly. Although...

Russ:
Oh, there's an "although"! I wasn't expecting an "although" on that.

Deborah:
No, all I was going to say was, no guilt trip here, just saying fact -- before I'd see you, what? every couple of months? with maybe a couple of phone calls in between? But now, bam! 40 minutes on zoom with you, faces and everything, every single week. So I do miss you. But I also see you a lot more.

Russ:
Well, I'm glad you're having such a lovely pandemic.

Deborah:
Oh, Russ, don't say that. I know it's terrible. I said, it's terrible. I can't help it if, just personally, I'm having a nice time. I don't expect you to understand.

Russ:
No. I do a bit.

Deborah:
Oh, do you?

Russ:
A bit. Maybe. I mean, obviously it's terrible.

Deborah:
It's terrible.

Russ:
Terrible. But for me, it's sort of opposite to like it is with you. You know, I've never been all that fussed about you know, going places and seeing people.

Deborah:
Yeah, I do.

Russ:
Yeah, well. Now I don't have to. Can't, I mean. And I've wriggled out of most of the Zooms, too. Got it down to band practice on Mondays, which is the one I actually like. Uh you on Wednesdays, which is the other one I like, obviously.

Deborah:
Obviously.

Russ:
Dad on Fridays, and Granddad whenever he calls.

Deborah:
So every day.

Russ:
Yeah, about that.

Deborah:
Mm.

Russ:
But apart from those four, Al's furloughed, Toby is off school. So it's just the three of us and the dog. Knocking about in the flat, cooking, watching TV. Pissing each other off. It's kind of... great. But look, you mustn't tell anyone else about this. Okay?

Deborah:
God, no. And you too for me.

Russ:
Deal. As far as anyone else knows, we're both having a terrible time.

Deborah:
Terrible time!

Narrator: 2012: Banbury

Deborah:
Hello, hello. I'm here. I'm so sorry.

Student:
Hi. No worries, it's fine.

Deborah:
Oh, it's not though. It's awful of me. Don't worry, though. I've got all my clobber on underneath my... clobber, if you see what I mean. So I'll just be two ticks. We'll put the 10 minutes on the end, of course. The thing is, I have this system for getting all down blocks and roads without hitting a red light. But what I always forget about it is that it doesn't work. All right. There. Have you warmed up already?

Student:
Yes.

Deborah:
Great. Then let's say I have too.

Student:
But isn't it important to warm up?

Deborah:
Well it's very important and you must always do it. Okay. Ready?

Student:
Yes.

Deborah:
Go! [footsteps] So Samira's still not back then?

Student:
Uh, no. No. How'd you know?

Deborah:
Oh, just you've got your phone in your shirt pocket.

Student:
...Yeah?

Deborah:
Well, that's what you do when your mum's babysitting.

Student:
Oh, yeah, I suppose it is. No, she was due to get back Thursday, but then she got... a... call! [sword clanging noises]

Deborah:
Ah ha. Okay, so, obviously this won't arise in a competition, but never go while you're talking 'cause I can hear you slow down.

Student:
Yeah.

Deborah:
If there's talking go, while the other person's talking. For instance, I'm carrying on talking now because possibly you might want to...

Student:
Oh! um [sword clanging noises] Ow! Oh dear...

Deborah:
And obviously never go when your opponent basically invites you to.

Student:
Oh no, I know. I thought that was too good to be true.

Deborah:
Yeah, it was mean of me-- [sword clanging noise] Oh! Much better.

Student:
Mwah ha, yeah! I thought I'd--

Deborah:
No no no, don't talk. Go again, while I'm off balance.

Student:
Right, but are you inviting me?

Deborah:
No no no, I mean, yes. But as an instructor, not opponent.

Student:
Oh, okay. [sword clanging and grunting noises]

Deborah:
Good. But remember, power from the hip. [sword clanging noises] Better. [sword clanging noises]

Student:
Oh!

Deborah:
Okay. So you know what you're doing, don't you?

Student:
[laughing] Yeah, I do, I'm falling into a pattern.

Deborah:
You're falling into a pattern. So obviously, in a competition, I'd just let you tire yourself out as long as you like, but luckily today, I'm an idiot. So I'm gonna... ha! [sword clanging noise]

Student:
Ow! Ah!

Deborah:
Sorry, I didn't think you'd... remember, you've got to be really sure what cut it is if you evade.

Student:
I know. I know. I just... it just really looked diagonal.

Deborah:
Hmm. Carry on? or quick breather.

Student:
Oh, quick breather.

Deborah:
Great, I can change my shoes.

Student:
Are those--? Are you wearing heels?

Deborah:
No! I mean, they've got heels, but they're not, you know, heels.

Student:
Bloody hell.

Narrator: 1997: Reading

Deborah:
Sorry, nearly there. Um...

Jerry:
Not to worry. Take your time. Oh, by the way, Deballah -- who's the spinster now?

Deborah:
I don't know, Dad -- who is a spinster now?

Jerry:
Not who -- who. Who.

Deborah:
Remember it's no use just repeating -- talk your way around it.

Jerry:
Your spinster. My my my tie. Who's gone up for the holy holy... Not east of one of those around there, but whose she's gone? I know she's in some sort of oven. I just don't mind which.

Deborah:
Who are we talking about?

Jerry:
Your spinster. Oh, you know your... your dress brother.

Deborah:
Oh, sister!

Jerry:
Yes, spister! Spister... spinster.

Deborah:
Sister.

Jerry:
Precisely.

Deborah:
Not very precisely. Anyway, she's in Torremolinos.

Jerry:
Ah, Torremolinos.

Deborah:
Oh, no problem with Torremolinos then. All right, look, this is terrible, but it's all I can think of. "Trap" for six.

Jerry:
Perfectly buoyant and don't regret the tees on the duck a letterpress.

Deborah:
Oh, yeah! Seven.

Jerry:
Of course, were you to restituted northbound wholesale, so you could hear on rather on the P instead. And all that sort of thing as well.

Deborah:
Well, don't help me, Dad.

Jerry:
Sorry.

Deborah:
But yes. All right. Nine.

Jerry:
Very good. All right. Backwards and forwards.

Deborah:
[Laughing]

Jerry:
Hm?

Deborah:
Nothing. Oh, you had that ready to go then.

Jerry:
Yeah, yes, afraid so. I was only pregnant for a tee. There! "Hockets".

Deborah:
"Hockets"?

Jerry:
Yes. Hockets. Hockets.

Deborah:
All right. Hockets. Which you're spelling H-V-R-A-S-T.

Jerry:
Hockets.

Deborah:
Mm. You see, the problem is, Dad, what you've put down isn't a word. And if it was a word, it wouldn't be hockets. And if it was hockets... Hockets is also not a word. So, I'm going to suggest again, and I promise this isn't just because I hate Scrabble -- I'm not sure you're quite recovered enough yet for Scrabble.

Jerry:
Oh, well enough. Still, hockets though. While it's after sun, and up and down in the outside are all gold and silver and all those kinds of things. And then the, you know, the man with a trapdoor comes and takes it all up and rearranges it elsewhere otherwise. There's a song in a church.

Deborah:
Song in a church?

Jerry:
Yes, [singing] "we plough the fields and scatter the good seed on the land."

Deborah:
Oh, "harvest"!

Jerry:
Yes. Hockets.

Narrator: 1994: Hastings

Deborah:
Okay, I've got a few lovely options for you in France and one in Belgium. But if you were to ask me personally where you should go, quite honestly, I'd put you in Jersey. Oh, no, completely. Yes. But you see, the great thing about Jersey is that it basically is abroad. You go by plane, or ferry if you like, but it's a proper ferry. You're on for ages. Not a silly one like the Isle of Wight. And when you get there, you can see France and there's French road signs. But the great thing is, it's not actually France. Because I'm bearing in mind what you said about not liking French food. And to be quite honest, they will give you that in France. Whereas on Jersey, well, this place I've got the details on, for instance -- L'hotel Bellevue San Brouillard -- it's got that real French air, yeah? for the postcards and everything, but you don't have to change your money and they do steak and kidney pudding. They do. And what also made me think of Jersey is it's got beaches for you, Lindsay, but you were saying you're a history buff, Robert. And the great thing about Jersey is that it's got medieval castles, but also Nazi tunnels. So both types of history. Lovely! And if I can't get availability anywhere, we can also try Guernsey, which is essentially the same but smaller.

Narrator: 1984: Dover

Deborah:
[singing softly] Night night, Russ woofs the wolfhound, go to sleep says the chow, don't wake up says... another pup, sleepy sleep says the... cow.

[baby crying]

Deborah:
Oh, alright, Russy, I'm here, I'm here.

Narrator: 1980: Dover

Deborah:
Okay, date of birth.

Cliff:
As old as my tongue.

Deborah:
Oh, Cliff, don't.

Cliff:
As old as my tongue,

Deborah:
No but don't though.

Cliff:
And a little older than--

Deborah:
Oh you're worse than my dad.

Cliff:
--my teeth.

Deborah:
Alright, you got it out. Congratulations. Now. What date was your tongue born on?

Cliff:
That'd be telling.

Deborah:
I know it would be telling. You need to tell -- it's a passport.

Cliff:
You know my birthday. Or I should hope you do.

Deborah:
Well yeah, but not the year.

Cliff:
You know how old I am. Subtract that from the current year.

Deborah:
Oh, bloody hell, Gandalf, will you just tell me?

Cliff:
Gandalf never set riddles. You mean Gollum.

Deborah:
When were you born!

Cliff:
Seventh of March, 1951.

Deborah:
Thank you. I don't understand how you've not got a passport anyway.

Cliff:
Why would I have? I've never been abroad.

Deborah:
Cliff, you go to France on that ferry four times a day.

Cliff:
To France. Not on France. You don't need one if you don't get off.

Deborah:
Oh you must get off sometimes.

Cliff:
No. Never fancied it.

Deborah:
You've never fancied even having a look?

Cliff:
Not really. Anyway, I can't.

Deborah:
Why not?

Cliff:
I haven't got a passport.

Deborah:
Well, you will have now. Alright. Here's a good one. You'll like this one.

Cliff:
Oh dear.

Deborah:
Visible distinguishing marks?

Cliff:
Nil.

Deborah:
You have.

Cliff:
Not this again! I've not. Put nil.

Deborah:
You've got that mole on the side of your belly.

Cliff:
That's not a visible distinguishing mark.

Deborah:
Well I'd know you by it.

Cliff:
I'm not saying it's not distinguishing. I'm saying it's not visible, is it?

Deborah:
Oh, are you not going to the beach, then?

Cliff:
It's not for the beach. They're not talking about the beach. They're talking about at the airport. At the airport I'll be in vest, shirt, sweater, windcheater.

Deborah:
You're taking your windcheater to Majorca? There's not much wind to cheat. Anyway, the point is not if they can see it in the airport. It's if they say, "Oh, hang on. How do we know you're Cliff Golding?" And that's when you flash them a debonair smile, off with the windcheater, off with the sweater, up with the shirt, up with the vest, and out with the mole. And you say, "That's how."

Cliff:
I'm not doing the dance of the seven veils in Luton Airport, and you may take that as final. Put nil.

Deborah:
Alright. Don't know why you're so ashamed of it anyway, the mole. I think it's sexy.

Cliff:
Sexy?? It's not sexy. It's horrible.

Deborah:
It's not. Looks like someone put a cigarette out on you.

Cliff:
What's sexy about that??

Deborah:
Well... You know.

Cliff:
I assure you, I don't.

Deborah:
No.

Narrator: 1976: Reading

Deborah:
And... I'm engaged.

Jerry:
Sweetheart! That's marvellous!

Hilla:
Uhh well, yes. Let's wait and see how marvellous it is. Given that she's 18 and she's been only gone a week.

Deborah:
It's okay. We're going to wait a year or two before we get married.

Hilla:
Yes, you are.

Deborah:
Yes, we are. Because that's what we've decided.

Hilla:
I don't care why you're waiting. I just know you're waiting.

Deborah:
Yes. That's what I said.

Hilla:
And I'm agreeing with you.

Jerry:
Good! Well, that's all settled then. Now, tell us all about him. Did you meet him in France?

Deborah:
Yes. Nearly.

Hilla:
Nearly?

Deborah:
Yes. On the way to France. On the ferry, actually.

Jerry:
Crikey. You don't waste time, do you?

Deborah:
Dad! I wasn't looking for him. Just listen. There was a terrible storm while we were at sea.

Hilla:
Between Dover and Calais?

Deborah:
Yes. It's still at sea. It was so bad they had to close the restaurant. And I was feeling awful. And he... he let me sit in the closed restaurant and he stayed and looked after me. And he was so good and so kind.

Hilla:
So he works on the ferry?

Deborah:
Sorry, did you hear me talking about his kindness and his goodness?

Hilla:
We'll come back to those. He's a ferry worker?

Deborah:
Yes. He lives in Dover and he works on the ferries. Nothing wrong with that, is there?

Jerry:
Nothing in the world.

Hilla:
So how old is he, this... ferryman?

Jerry:
A ferryman! How romantic. Like Charon!

Hilla:
Shut up, please, Jerry. How old is he, Deborah?

Deborah:
I don't know. About my age? Maybe a bit older -- not much. I'm not an idiot, Mut. He's just... I mean, when you know, you know, don't you?

Jerry:
Absolutely.

Hilla:
Not necessarily.

Jerry:
That's just how it was for us, the moment I saw her.

Deborah:
Yes, exactly. And look how happy you two are.

Jerry:
None happier.

Hilla:
You're not helping, Jerry.

Jerry:
Oh, I am, I think, I'm just not helping you. What's his name?

Deborah:
Cliff.

Jerry:
Cliff? Ah.

Deborah:
Yes. What?

Jerry:
Oh, nothing. Cliff from Dover. [laughs]

Deborah:
Dad.

Narrator: 1972: Bradford-on-Avon

Deborah:
All right. How about them?

Vanessa:
Hmm. Well, Big Coat doesn't want to be here.

Deborah:
[gasps] How do you know?

Vanessa:
Because she won't take off her big coat. Sideburns tried to take it when they sat down, but Big Coat wasn't having it. So either she wants to make a quick getaway or she doesn't like what she's wearing. Or she thinks she's fat.

Deborah:
Or she's cold?

Vanessa:
Oh, my dear, it's stifling. Now shoes. Ah, good, but regulation. I think she might be in uniform. I wonder what it can be?

Deborah:
Nurse?

Vanessa:
Not with that hair. Nor policewoman.

Deborah:
Traffic warden.

Vanessa:
Oh yes, good shout, could very well be.

Deborah:
Oooo!

[dishes rattling]

Vanessa:
Quietly, dear.

Deborah:
Sorry. Sorry, Gran, but did you see? Earrings is sorry for Big Coat.

Vanessa:
Oh no, she's not.

Deborah:
She is, didn't you see the look she gave her?

Vanessa:
Of course I did. So did several people in the next street. But Big Coat apparently did not. So, Earrings isn't sorry for Big Coat. What Earrings wants is for Big Coat to know that Earrings knows she's uncomfortable. And what Big Coat wants is to take Earrings by her earrings and fling her into the heart of the sun.

Deborah:
You don't know that though.

Vanessa:
I don't know it, but I bet you this cheese scone.

Deborah:
Mm okay. My turn.

Vanessa:
Alright. Um... Orange Shirt, coming up the street.

Deborah:
Uh nice clothes, so well off.

Vanessa:
Mm hm.

Deborah:
Oh that's his car. Nice car too, but clothes and car about the same age, like five-ish years, which is fine for the car, but bit old for the clothes. So maybe things were going well for him a little while ago but less so now.

Vanessa:
Bravo, Deborah, first rate. And of course he's probably married and lives on this street.

Deborah:
Gran! ...Oh, did you see a ring?

Vanessa:
Did you see ring?

Deborah:
No.

Vanessa:
No more did I, but he adjusted both seat and mirror when he got in and with the smoothness of long habit. Might not be a wife but odds on. And if she parked it but he's driving it away, they probably live on this street.

Deborah:
Oh, I see.

Vanessa:
Oh just "I see"?? No "well done" for the poor old girl?

Deborah:
Oh, yes. Sorry. Well done. It's just... Well, I wish sometimes it was Russian spies or something. It's not much use just being able to tell whether someone's married, is it?

Vanessa:
Oh my dear.

Narrator: 1967: Leamington Spa

Jerry:
Oh, is this the restaurant?

Hilla:
I think so.

Jerry:
Hells bells... All right, Wilkos, bunch. Now then, Wilkos, I won't hide from you, this looks bad. There's cloths on the tables, there's menus with no pictures and tassels. Oh, ah yes -- look but don't look, follow my elbow -- the plentiful woman in yellow about to sit down -- watch the waiter behind her. See what he does.

[children laugh]

Deborah:
What was he doing with her chair?

Benji:
He pushed it under her bottom!

Myra:
What was he doing?

Jerry:
What he was doing was, he was helping her to sit down.

[children laugh and express disbelief]

Jerry:
Swear to God. Which being the case, I'm sorry to have to tell you I am forced to declare Gale Force Five table manners.

[children groan]

Jerry:
I know, I know, I hate to do it, you know I do. For my own sake as much as anyone's. But you saw for yourselves, we're dealing with people who can't use chairs without help. They're not ready for you, Wilkos. Not even at Force Four. But, in return, point one: we'll make this a precision raid, no adult nonsense about starters before or coffees after. Two courses and out. And point two: open season on the pudding menu. If they've got it, you can have it!

Myra:
Yay!

Deborah:
Dad...

Jerry:
Oh, I know, Deborah, I know, you don't like pudding, you do like starters. All right, then. How does this grab you? Starter for pudding?

Deborah:
Yeah!

Hilla:
Jerry, they won't do that.

Jerry:
They will if you pay 'em. They don't care. All right. It's tough on everyone, but everyone gets something out of it.

Myra:
It's not tough on Mutti. Mutti likes table manners.

Jerry:
Oh, yes, but... Mutti won't be smoking.

Hilla:
What? Yes, I will! Like a chimney is how I'll be smoking.

Jerry:
Sorry, old girl. Rauchen verboten. Time of sacrifice and all that.

Hilla:
Listen, I'm not talking to your mother without--

Jerry:
[singsong voice] Children present!

Hilla:
[sighs] I will enjoy talking to your mother over a cigarette.

Jerry:
Yes. But, sadly, as all Wilkos know, the moment you start smoking, you stop eating.

Hilla:
I don't!

Benji:
You do, Mutti!

Myra:
You really do.

Jerry:
Soon as the blue touch paper is lit, you start eating like a glacier, and not one of your hungry glaciers either -- a glacier that recently had a big lunch.

Hilla:
Oh, alright. But I'm having a cigarette instead of pudding.

Jerry:
Perfectly acceptable! Alright. Wilkos, Force Five manners starting in five...

[children screaming and making weird noises as Jerry continues to count down]

Jerry:
...one, NOW!

[noises stop]

Jerry:
This seems like a pleasant restaurant.

Hilla:
Indeed. Children, shall we dine herein?

[all children] Yes, mother.

Narrator: 1962: Reading

Newt:
Alright then, girls, time for lights out.

Deborah and Myra:
Nooo!

Deborah:
Can't we have a story?

Myra:
Yes, tell us a story!

Newt:
You've just had a story.

Deborah:
That was a book story.

Myra:
Yeah, we want one of your stories.

Newt:
Now your mother told me quite specifically, you only have one story before bed.

Deborah:
Well, that's why we love it when you babysit, Uncle Newt.

Newt:
You see, I know exactly what you're doing, and yet it still works. What would you like a story about?

[girls talking over each other] Ghost! A garden!

Newt:
Ah, well, um, how about ghosts in a garden?

Deborah:
Okay!

Myra:
Nooo, why's it always ghosts or something? Can't it be: there's a lovely garden, and it's just nice, and nothing happens.

Newt:
Well it can, but that sounds like quite a short story. I tell you what, I think we might have time for both. So. Since you asked me for the story about a haunted garden.

[Since you asked me intro music]

Newt:
Perhaps you would care to hear the singular tale of the garden of the old courthouse, formerly known as the courthouse, and before that as the new courthouse, and before that as site for prospective courthouse, and before that as the old field. And before that as the field. It is a tranquil, pleasant garden. But they do say that at midnight on the 13th of every month it is filled with the shrieks and moans of long dead spirits. And when I say "they do say," I mean I do say. And how came I to know of it? This way came I. Some 30 years ago, the new owner of the old courthouse, now known of course as the old owner of the ancient courthouse, brought me in as the most affordable landscape gardener of my day to redesign the garden from top to bottom.

Client:
"I want it all changed,"

Newt:
my client had specified.

Client:
"I want the pond drained and turned into a rockery. I want the rockery elevated and turned into a rookery. I want the rookery made of hickory and the rockery made of crockery. A non-crockery rockery is a mockery of a rockery."

Newt:
I sipped thoughtfully on the broccoli daiquiri this monomaniac had prepared for me.

Client:
"Oh, most of all, I want you to get rid of that ridiculous hanging basket supporter."

Newt:
It certainly was a peculiar addition to any garden. Although extraordinarily sturdily built of thick oaken timbers, it had but one great arm from which to hang a hanging basket. Why the owners and maintainers of a courthouse should have required such an elaborate hanging basket supporter was more than I could fathom. In any case, my task was to get rid of it. I selected a stout axe, but as I swung it the head detached and flew across the garden, embedding itself deep into a sundial. As I retrieved it, I noticed the sundial had a curious inscription: "Be gone about thy business." Disregarding this I lashed the head of the axe back on and once again swung it back, but this time it was the handle that flew off... somehow, and embedded itself in a second sundial with equally curious inscription: "Taketh thou unto thyself a hint." I abandoned the axe and took a saw to the base of the structure, but the saw buckled and rusted before my eyes. I set fire to the thing, but when the flames died away there it stood, blackened but otherwise unchanged. I doused it in sulfuric acid. That took off the layer of charcoal and left it looking better than ever. It dawned upon me that far from destroying the thing, I was, if anything, renovating it. "What ever is the infernal thing?"

Client:
"Well..."

Newt:
said my client, thoughtfully.

Client:
"I suppose you could try asking the old judge."

Newt:
"The old judge."

Client:
"Yes. When we moved into the old courthouse, we couldn't bring ourselves to throw the old judge out onto the street. So we let him sleep in the grotto behind the pond. He more or less takes care of himself. Occasionally, we throw him an egg sandwich or a bottle of port, and in return, he keeps the garden clear of tort and malfeasance. He might know."

Newt:
And so I ventured to the end of the garden, to the judge's grotto. I found him sitting on a bench. I made rather a good joke about this, but he'd heard it.

Old Judge:
"So you're the foolish young fellow who's trying to demolish you-know-what."

Newt:
"I am. Except I don't."

Old Judge:
"What??"

Newt:
"I am that fellow, but I don't know what."

Old Judge:
"Imagine it holding not a hanging basket, but a stout rope."

Newt:
[gasp] Suddenly, it all became clear. "You mean, the thing? In reality it's... a swing!"

Old Judge:
"Exactly. It's the old courthouse swing. For centuries generations of exhausted lawyers and judges have put the cares of the day behind them by having a go on the courthouse swing. No wonder the spirits of those who enjoyed it -- aye, and who enjoy it still! -- at midnight on the 13th of every month are ranged against you."

Newt:
"What? You swing upon it still?"

Old Judge:
"Well, they do. They won't let me join in. They say I am not dead enough. Rotters."

Newt:
"Anyway, what am I to do? I am duty bound to get rid of the thing. I have given my word as a landscape gardener."

Old Judge:
"Mm, no pledge is more sacred. Well, there is perhaps one thing you could do."

Newt:
"Yes?"

Old Judge:
"There is a very old legal maxim which I think applies here. Qui bono pro bono habeas corpus delicti" or loosely translated, 'why don't you build them a helter skelter, sweetheart?'"

Newt:
"A helter skelter?"

Old Judge:
"Yes, some of the boys are getting a bit bored of the swing. I reckon if you built them a helter skelter instead, they'd let you knock it down."

Newt:
I felt a little sceptical of this. But at that very moment a brand new sundial crashed down from the heavens inscribed with the motto: "yes, we've had a vote on it, you're on." Well, little remains of my tale to tell. Like so many of my stories, it ends with me building a helter skelter for some dead lawyers. And so it is that, as I told you, if you should come to that garden at midnight, on the 13th of the month, you will hear the shrieks and moans of long dead spirits, the shrieks of the ghosts of the lawyers and judges enjoying their new helter skelter and the moans of the ghosts of the lawyers and judges who preferred the swing, but were outvoted. And perhaps the loudest and most joyful shrieks of all come from my friend, the old judge, reunited with his playmates at last. Oh, sorry, I forgot to say the last sundial fell on him and he died. Good night.

[outro music]
John Finnemore's Souvenir Programme was written and performed by John Finnemore with Margaret Cabourn-Smith, Simon Kane, Lawry Lewin, and Carrie Quinlan. The producer was Ed Morrish and it was a BBC Studios production.

Myra:
But what about my story?

Newt:
Oh, yes, I'm sorry, my dear. Well, since you asked me for a story about a lovely garden -- once there was a lovely garden, and it was just nice, and nothing happened. Good night.