Des Wright: The Rural RoadmanIt has been my privilege and pleasure to have been acquainted with many Council roadmen during a working lifetime travelling the lanes and back-waters of rural Buckinghamshire, enjoying many hours listening to their tales of village life. The size and location of a village determined whether it would have its own roadman, or share one with an adjacent village. Every road, lane and byway fell under his jurisdiction. The nature of the job meant that he would spend most of his working day by himself, although there were always passers by to stop for a friendly chat. They weren't left entirely to their own devices of course - all were under the direct control of the County Council Works Department and were regularly patrolled by a Road Foreman, who travelled the area on a motorcycle and sidecar. His brief was to set the work each day and make sure it was carried out as smoothly and quietly as possible - with the exception of the wheelbarrows. Always had squeaky wheels they did. The foreman's philosophy was simple - you may not be able to see the roadmen, but wait around long enough and you'd be bound to hear them!
The roadman's job was hard and back-breaking. During spring and summer, roadside verge trimming was a priority. Using a 'faggin' hook' (the Buckinghamshire and Hertfordshire term for a sickle¹) or a scythe² all day was exhausting. Those were the only grass-cutting tools available in those days. However, the roadman was an expert in the art of scything. Using a rhythmic cutting arc, he would mow all day long, stopping only to sharpen the blade occasionally with a carborundum stone (a compound of carbon and silicon). Asked the secret of precise scything, one local roadman answered ''yer keeps yer toe up, and yer 'eel down''. This meant precisely that, the toe being the sharp, pointed end of the blade, the heel the other! Disposal of the mowings didn't present a problem - they simply left them a day or two for the sun to dry them, then burnt them by the side of the road. There were some rewards. In the halcyon days between the wars, horses reigned supreme and where there are horses, there's manure. This was a highly sought after commodity. Never put anything else on your rhubarb! However, rules are rules and they were strictly adhered to. While still in the horse, the manure remained the property of its owner, but once on the road, it was deemed 'roadman's perks'. At a value of half-a-crown (12½p) a barrow load, this was a very lucrative perk. With the arrival of autumn and winter, efforts turned to other tasks - the most important being ditching, hedging and general roadside maintenance. Most isolated villages were without any proper drainage on the highways so it was important to keep the ditches clear. Running parallel to the road, they acted as open drains, diverting surface water away from the thoroughfare. As most people travelled around on foot or on bicycle and flooding was common, this was vital work to keep feet dry! Hedges were kept in good order using a billhook or long handled 'slasher'. Here too a few extra shillings could be made. Hazel stems provided the ideal material for pea sticks and bean poles. Everybody had a garden or allotment in those days. As a bundle for pea sticks cost 1 shilling (5p) and a bundle for bean poles 1s 9d (around 9 pence), hedges were usually well-maintained! Depending on the distance, some roadmen arrived on site by bicycle; others would walk, keeping their wheelbarrow and tools at home. Otherwise, local sheds and outhouses were made available by villagers, often in return for keeping their own verges tidy. Farm buildings, especially if full of hay and straw, were favourite places to eat lunch in the winter months, or to shelter from rain and snow. One village roadie often curled up in his wheelbarrow, filled with soft straw, for a midday snooze! Des Wright, 2001 |
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