July 27th: Belloc Night, and the tale of Jim.

Tonight is 'Belloc Night' (a more comprehensible version of 'Burns Night' for fastidious Sussex folk, and all others who speak The Queen's English).

On this night (27th July) we eat Bread, Cheese, and Pickle, and read verses of Belloc; in my case from his most famous tome 'Cautionary Tales for Children'.

If, like me, you intend to celebrate the life and work of Hilaire Belloc tonight (as I'm sure you will), may I suggest that you read 'Jim' to your assembled party; kids love it too!

                                        

Jim

There was a Boy whose name was Jim;

His Friends were very good to him.

They gave him Tea, and Cakes, and Jam,

And slices of delicious Ham,

And Chocolate with pink inside

And little Tricycles to ride,

And read him Stories through and through,

And even took him to the Zoo--

But there it was the dreadful Fate

Befell him, which I now relate.

You know--or at least you ought to know,

For I have often told you so--

That Children never are allowed

To leave their Nurses in a Crowd;

Now this was Jim's especial Foible,

He ran away when he was able,

And on this inauspicious day

He slipped his hand and ran away!

He hadn't gone a yard when--Bang!

With open Jaws, a lion sprang,

And hungrily began to eat

The Boy: beginning at his feet.

Now, just imagine how it feels

When first your toes and then your heels,

And then by gradual degrees,

Your shins and ankles, calves and knees,

Are slowly eaten, bit by bit.

No wonder Jim detested it!

No wonder that he shouted ``Hi!''

The Honest Keeper heard his cry,

Though very fat he almost ran

To help the little gentleman.

``Ponto!'' he ordered as he came

(For Ponto was the Lion's name),

``Ponto!'' he cried, with angry Frown,

``Let go, Sir! Down, Sir! Put it down!''

The Lion made a sudden stop,

He let the Dainty Morsel drop,

And slunk reluctant to his Cage,

Snarling with Disappointed Rage.

But when he bent him over Jim,

The Honest Keeper's Eyes were dim.

The Lion having reached his Head,

The Miserable Boy was dead!

When Nurse informed his Parents, they

Were more Concerned than I can say:--

His Mother, as She dried her eyes,

Said, ``Well--it gives me no surprise,

He would not do as he was told!''

His Father, who was self-controlled,

Bade all the children round attend

To James's miserable end,

And always keep a-hold of Nurse

For fear of finding something worse.




As you settle down to your bread cheese and pickles, it is worth noting that in Belloc's book 'The Four Men', he reminds us that in Sussex, cheese is not given silly fancy pompous names (such as 'Bishop's armpit', or 'Nun's nasty'), but is simply known as CHEESE.

'In Sussex, let me tell you, we have but one cheese, the name of which is CHEESE.  It is One, and undivided, though divided into a thousand fragments, and unchanging, though changing in place and consumption.  There is in Sussex no Cheese but Cheese, and it is the same cheese from the head of the Eastern Rother to Harting Hill, and from the sea-beach to that part of Surrey which we gat from the Marches with sword and bow.  In colour it is yellow. It is neither young nor old.  Its taste is that of Cheese and nothing more'. 


p.s. I am privileged to own a couple of drawings by BTB (Basil Temple Blackwood) who illustrated Belloc's Cautionary Tales (see Jim and the Lion, above). Poor old Blackers was killed in action at Ypres, aged 46.