A whiff of hope in the air as urgent calls go out for the good ole hunnycart to ride again in the name of local life beyond the pail.

Well, more like a modern version, a sort of park-and-ride relief service with enough mod cons to counter savage cuts in numbers of public toilets across our county.

These closures in the name of saving councils money will put most pressure on  summer holiday hotspots like North Norfolk but locals and visitors alike are bound to feel the strain at all times of year.

And that goes for several other aspects of day-to-day existence as pressures pile up about an overloaded care system, policing resources, rocketing energy bills, crumbling classrooms, struggling pubs, shopping shudders and car parking hikes.

There’s supreme irony hanging over a lengthy list of street lights waiting to be turned off just as so many expectant locations switch on twinkling invitations to mark start of our festive  season of peace, goodwill and upsurges in  community spirit.

For those MPs, councillors and officers too young to recall the heydays (and nights) of a  vital takeaway service before indoor toilets, mains electricity and other luxuries now taken for granted, let me offer a potted history from a comfortable seat in a little shud at bottom of the garden,

Here’ a potent extract from The Short History of a Mid-Norfolk Village  (Litcham) by Dr Eric Puddy first published in 1957: “

At the appointed times, the night soil cart could  be heard rumbling up the street, lit by an old-fashioned candle lantern swinging from the outside shaft.

Rumblings of the wheels would cease and within seconds  arose the snoring of Wally Feeke’s old mule.

Pails clanked, the midnight air became less ambient, the mule awoke and moved along  to the next cottage as if in a fantasy”.

Can there be any wonder that Wally and his hunnycart  should drive such deep stakes of envy into  hearts of boys from just over the border in my home parish of Beeston?

With no signs of setting up a rival service, we knew instinctively one of the key chapters  in local social history was being play out - .and all we could do  was stand admire.

It didn’t help when fresh stirring escapades were growing to  a living legend. – Wally lived with danger inherent in his calling . It really started that night in wartime when his hunnycart was  hijacked. 

 

 

 

He was busy patrolling Back Street. While away from the cart for a couple of minutes,   two American servicemen stationed at Beeston  jumped on his chariot and charged up the Lexham  Road at full gallop . An hour later they returned with more than a smell of scandal. They travelled at such rate that  movement of the cart’s contents had opened the lid and the hijackers were soaked.

Wally didn’t bother to ring up the White House after an adventure  to stretch Litcham – USA relations to the limit. He simply scowled” That’ll larn them bludder Yanks!”

Perhaps Wally’s most telling pronouncement on how every job carries its perks  came with Friday night calls at Lenny Allison’s local fish-and-chips shop. A packed house parted like the Red Sea as he walked in. He never had to wait for his piece and six. Many were tempted to ask if he might get theirs while was there.

His band of ardent admirers continued to grow, especially in snowy weather  when he could only make progress by placing sacks in front of the mule and cart. and expeditions took twice as long. There were times when he fell days behind schedule but he never shirked a challenge as many more memorable yarns piled up .

Eventually envy had to give way to unstinting admiration. To some extent ,Wally’s career fired my  abiding interest in village life and lore . One of my proudest possession is a framed picture of a Litcham legend getting on with a job that had so many others turning up their noses. It was presented to me by Wally’s widow, Mabel, on behalf of Litcham Historical Society.

Now, the time must be ripe  for our current elected representative at all levels to come out of their comfortable closets and join forces to  fashion something more practical than slogans like “Don’t forget to go before you come !” to answer  fundamental Calls of Nature for folk on the move.

We need a battalion of honorary lootieunants to find inspiration  for a brand new  mobile carriage of convenience , preferably sponsored by a few water company bosses flushed with loot.

Perhaps it can have a bell fixed and be named The Humdinger.