Buckden - a Huntingdonshire Village

BUCKDEN: A CLOSING MISCELLANY 220 Cliff Robinson and friends on another occasion? Alice Whitmee Horace Haynes was most anxious that it should reflect the original intentions and the land be dedicated as the War Memorial Playing Fields to indicate that it did not belong to the Parish Council, but to the people of Buckden, in memory of those war service years and of all who fought and died for their country. So it was unanimously agreed that a memorial stone would be created and dedicated. How was this memorial stone to be obtained? Enter new residents to the village, Peter and Ann Geyelin, who were on the point of retiring from Blake and Horlock, a monumental masons’ business in Enfield. With their help, Scottish granite for the stone came all the way from Galloway and was inscribed to a design by Peter. Quite a task it proved to unload and position it on the blue engineering brick plinth constructed by Ken Gale. And so, on a rainy spring evening in 1985, the memorial was unveiled, and a hearty social in the Village Hall was enjoyed by villagers - both old and new. So hats off to that War Memorial Playing Fields Committee of yesteryear for securing the field and valley and giving pleasure to all in perpetuity. JH HH The Buckden begging bowl by June Woods F undraising for the playing fields took many forms. There were whist drives, socials and dances, and all the large houses took turns opening their gardens on Saturdays during the summer—a fête in the afternoon and dancing on the lawn in the evening. A set of substantial side-shows was made and became the focus of each venue, together with home-made refreshments provided by ladies of the village. Comic football and cricket matches in the Towers were very popular, with surrounding villages being encouraged to compete. All enterprising, but conventional, ways of raising money. But then they thought up the notorious begging bowl. This was a cup presented every Saturday evening with great ceremony and then snatched back—a grand piano leg with a large washing up bowl (metal) on one end and a baby’s potty (enamel) on the other, all tastefully painted silver. The ‘Mayor and Mayoress of Buckden’ arrived in style in an ancient car belonging to Robinson’s Garages, driven by Cliff Robinson dressed as a chauffeur. The Mayor was Mr Heffer (Gents Outfitters, now One Stop) in top hat and tails, and the Mayoress was my father, Alderman Slaughter, in the most horrendous green crinoline and ginger wig. Then began a procession round the village calling at every hostelry (there were seven) asking for donations to fill the cup (surreptitiously emptied from time to time so that it always needed topping up.) No- one was safe from this ravenous crew, which grew in numbers as the evening wore on. Unsuspecting lorry drivers who had stopped for refreshment (the village High Street was still the Al) often fell prey to these humorous highwaymen. JW Ω ΩΩΩΩ