Writing Greenwood Tree – and more

The Sounds of London …

Couldn’t resist this, another little foundling for the old scrap-book (it’s 1915, so a much younger  Julia Warren was perhaps still learning her craft as a fledgling  journalist, but already with dreams of becoming a writer…)

“Night-time sounds of Kingsland Road:

My first night was the same as every other. My window looked out on a church tower which still further preyed on the wan light of the street, and, as I lay in bed, its swart height, pierced by the lit clock face, gloated stiffly over me. From back of beyond a furry voice came dolefully—
Goo bay to sum-mer, goo bay, goo baaaaay!

That song has thrilled and chilled me ever since. Next door an Easy Payments piano was being tortured by wicked fingers that sought after the wild grace of Weber’s “Invitation to the Valse.” From the street the usual London night sounds floated up until well after midnight. There was the dull, pessimistic tramp of the constable, and the long rumble of the Southwark-bound omnibus. Sometimes a stray motor-car would hoot and jangle in the distance, swelling to a clatter as it passed, and falling away in a pathetic diminuendo. A traction-engine grumbled its way along, shaking foundations and setting bed and ornaments a-trembling. Then came the blustering excitement of chucking-out at the “Galloping Horses.” Half a dozen wanted to fight; half a dozen others wanted to kiss; everybody wanted to live in amity and be jollyolpal. A woman’s voice cried for her husband, and abused a certain Long Charlie; and Long Charlie demanded with piteous reiteration: “Why don’t I wanter fight? Eh? Tell me that. Why don’t I wanter fight? Did you ‘ear what he called me? Did you ‘ear? He called me a—a—what was it he called me?”

Then came police, disbandment, and dark peace, as the strayed revellers melted into the night. Sometimes there would sound the faint tinkle of a belated hansom, chiming solitarily, as though weary of frivolity. And then a final stillness of which the constable’s step seemed but a part.”

by Thomas Burke, from A Lonely Night, 1915.

 

An excellent site for sounds of London, past and (fairly) present : The London Sound Survey

Now, something a little closer to Julia’s time in Greenwood Tree…. :

 

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2 responses

  1. What brilliant writing.

    November 23, 2012 at 3:22 pm

    • I thought so too. Reminds me of other authors of around the same period – I was reading H.MacGrath’s The Voice in the Fog the recently, puts me in mind of him, Hodgson’s Carnacki is another one, Crispin’s Holy Disorder is a little later – it’s just that turn of phrase, isn’t it.

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      November 23, 2012 at 4:45 pm

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