One Boxing Day the drains at The Court, a large private house by our village pond, were blocked. When dozens of buckets of water had been washed in and all over the place they were still blocked, when someone said:

“Fetch Titch, he works for the council on the drains.”

Titch, a bachelor, was having his tea in his shirts sleeves but left his immediately. He strode through the village, all six foot of him delighted to be wanted. Off came the manhole cover, Titch flung his twenty-odd stone body on the ground, and entered into the job with real zest, groping into the mess a full arms’ length. He grabbed handfuls and flung them out, then with rods and water he moved the blockage. The job finished and cleaned up, the cook said Would you like to step into the kitchen to clean up, plenty of hot water,” “What is the time?” said Titch.

“6.30 pm”

“N,sorry, I got to be off. Titch stepped out, he had a job at 6.30 pm every night, washing glasses at the Fox pub.

Later that evening one customer remarked,

“The beer’s got more flavour tonight, real body in it.”

Titch said nothing, he just kept those glasses coming with a special sparkling flavour!!