Open Writing

Clifford Crawshaw was a bizarre character who could tell tall tales. One acquaintance of his alleged that had he been capable of writing, he could have produced a best-seller from the fabrications he turned out.

At mature height Clifford stood four feet six inches and was born with one leg shorter than the other so that he rocked as he walked. Also from birth his left arm terminated slightly below the elbow, whilst his right hand sported three fingers only, no thumb. Yet despite all the deformities he made his way through life earning a living whilst paying dues and demands as he went.

The little man earned an income selling firewood-kindling sticks. He lived with his sister, and the pair toured the district pushing and pulling a wooden box equipped with shafts and iron wheels. Contained within the conveyance was the firewood, sold by the bucketful at possibly 1d or 2d each, that is until he acquired a stick-bundling device when the bucket was dispensed with.

Clifford’s sister had her own characteristics. She wore a beret cloche fashion, pulled down to the tops of her ears, whilst spectacles were balanced on the end of her nose.

People who knew the little fellow tell of how he would chop the wood whilst supporting the piece with his foot and swinging the axe in a three-fingered grip, the operation being carried out in a shed adjacent to the house. On dark nights illumination was by paraffin lamp.

A nightly custom took place when from the house doorway Clifford’s sister would loudly announce that the cocoa was ready. Her brother would then douse the light, emerge from the shed and go indoors.

The cocoa call was delivered in a distinctive tone of voice, one readily copied by local children. Delight was taken by the youngsters who, by aping the sister’s call, would cause the toiler to cease his labours and retire, as he thought, for his evening beverage. Further pleasure was then enjoyed when brother and sister berated each other because of the false message.

Despite his infirmities, Clifford learned how to set fencing posts in the ground by using a sledgehammer! Again, his foot acted as a brace against the post which he had pounded into the earth. Then it was driven deeper with the hammer. No mean feat under the circumstances.

The fencing stakes were required since in due course a Welsh pony was acquired to haul the firewood supply. The animal bore a brand mark of three feathers. That, its owner alleged, was proof of it having belonged to the Prince of Wales. In fact it had been bought direct from the Prince when he and Clifford had haggled together over the price of purchase!

One annual agricultural show held locally found Clifford entered in the Trademan’s Turnout section over a period years. He had purchased a cart which a signwriter had painted and decorated in an attractive style.

Onlookers at the time agree that it was a sight to behold, as with amazing agility Clifford would leap onto the cart, tuck one rein under his stunted arm whilst controlling the other rein in a triple-fingered grasp. Then away would go the ensemble with spectators showing their appreciation for pony, cart and driver all immaculately presented. So much so that he never failed to win a prize. Or was it admiration and sympathy for effort which swayed the judge’s decisions?

At a horse fair one time Clifford was in conversation with two strangers. They were overheard enquiring as to how their acquaintance came by his disabilities. The result of war service, announced Clifford. He had been an RAF pilot in the Battle of Britain, was shot down and received the wounds he then displayed! The enquirers were impressed and believed him!

A friend of mine who had known Clifford for many years met him in the street one time. When the customary pleasantries had been exchanged, the romancer announced he had just returned from Manchester Airport where he had been supervising the laying of a runway extension. It is doubtful if he had even seen Manchester Airport.

Such were the tales of Clifford Crawshaw’s telling.

One revelation regarding his early life is true since it was witnessed by several of his contemporaries.

Clifford’s parents, for whatever reason, mercenary or sympathetically, are said to have wished for him to die in his early life. Towards that end the young child was left outdoors in all weathers. During winter it was not unusual to see him sat playing in the falling snow. The hope being he would develop pneumonia -- a killer at the time, the 1930s.

Proof of his resilience and resoluteness to live saw him exceed his three score years and ten.

Eventually brother and sister had to vacate their premises which were rented. The local council purchased the area for a housing project. Thus the pair were obliged to move into the town area where they passed the remainder of their days.

Whatever contemporaries may say of Clifford regarding his Walter Mitty romanticising, there can be no disputing the fact that he was a survivor.