Just as a change, here is something different 

I came across the following extract in a travel book years ago and took a photocopy of the page. It was a series of journeys to different counties in England and I have looked for the book since and since I didn't note the author at the time, I have never found it again. It is not Cobbett, Defoe, Hillaby or any of the more recent writers but it is a biggish book - the photocopy is of page 278, I see. If anyone does locate it, I would be very pleased to know!

 

..............................We went out, even though it was still raining heavily...............We found a large and almost deserted pub.  (this is in Newcastle..ed). But vaque noises came from upstairs and we crept up. It was obviously a rehearsal for some future event. It was being directed by a middle-aged man in a blue suit who peered at his players through the smoke of his cigarette. As we crept in, a spectacled young man in a raincoat was declaiming with passion some lines about Greek gods and Trojan heroes. 'Now then,' shouted the producer as the spectacled young man appeared to finish, gasping, 'now then the chorus, please.' Then, to my surprise, about a dozen women, mostly rather short and in coloured mackintoshes, who had been standing about in a slightly shame-faced fashion, like the mothers of children at a dancing class, suddenly grouped themselves, slowly moved forward, as if sowing imaginery seed or strewing invisible flowers, and in far-away voices began chanting verses that prophesied woe. A very tall girl, as if maddened by the sight of so many coloured mackintoshes, rushed out of a corner, flung up an arm, made her eyes flash away as if she were a human lighthouse, and angrily addressed the chorus, giving them three woes to their one. This aroused another young man in a raincoat who appeared to be in a towering rage and apparently did not care if he gave himself a sore throat. But the raincoats were not to have it their own way. The mackintoshes grouped themselves again and returned to their chanting, conducted enthusiastically by the producer, who encouraged me to hope that he was about to throw away his cigarette and dance for us. Then a rather shy and pretty tweed winter coat swam forward and told us softly that she was Argive Helen, and then delivered a rather long speech about herself, with coloured mackintoshes rustling around her. Those who know the 'Trojan Women' may search it in vain to find a scene resembling all this. Before the mackintoshes could get going again, we sneaked out . I muttered as we went 'What's Hecuba to them, or they to Hecuba?'

 

Nothing of interest after this ! Jos, needless to say, would have beenas quite happy to provide a continuation but on second thoughts he says he is no good at making things up, even about his favourite subject. Pity, but I can vouch for his lack of any literary fiction skills!