Showing posts with label Francis Kilvert. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Francis Kilvert. Show all posts

Monday, 8 August 2016

TOURISTS

'What was to our horror on entering the enclosure to see two tourists with staves and shoulder belts all complete postured among the ruins in an attitude of admiration, one of them of course discoursing learnedly to his gaping companion and pointing out objects of interest with his stick. If there is nothing more hateful than another it is being told what to admire and having objects pointed out with a stick. Of all noxious animals too the most noxious is a tourist. And of all tourists the most vulgar, illbred, offensive and loathsome is the British tourist.'
Francis Kilvert, Kilvert's Diary 1870-1879, p.26

Wednesday, 9 December 2009

JUSTICE

'Dame Matthews used to live at the Home Farm at Langley Burrell. She was a member of the family, but she must have lived a long time ago, as Mrs Banks remarked, because she called cows "Kine". The Dame used to sit in the chimney corner and near her chair was a little window through which she could see all down the dairy. One evening she saw one of the farm men steal a pound of butter out of the dairy and put it into his hat, at the same moment clapping his hat upon his head.
"John," called the Dame. "John, come here. I want to speak to you." John came, carefully keeping his hat on his head. The Dame ordered some ale to be heated for him and bade him sit down in front of the roaring fire. John thanked his mistress and said he would have the ale another time, as he wanted to go home at once.
"No, John. Sit down by the fire and drink some hot ale. 'Tis a cold night and I want to speak to you about the kine."
The miserable John, daring neither to take his hat off nor go without his mistress's leave, sat before the scorching fire drinking his hot ale till the butter in his hat began to drip all over his face. "Now, John," she said "you may go. I won't charge you anything for the butter."'
Francis Kilvert in Alan Taylor (Ed.), The Country Diaries: A Year in the British Countryside, p.307.