Watson Wannacott

How does one begin to describe Watson Wannacott? Maybe with any first meeting an introduction would be appropriate? Mr Wannacott is commonly known in the area as Watson, that's not his real name of course, if one should look on the electoral register you will find him officially listed as Samuel Wannacott, that is if he bothered to fill in his electoral roll card that year. The reason he's fondly called Watson is down to his liking for 'newsin', or local gossip, whenever you meet him his first words will be, 'What's on, bouy', hence the name Watson. If ever you should meet him don't be afraid to call him Watson, deep down he's rather attached to the name. In fact, if you manage to get a salutation in first the conversation will go something like, 'How be Watson?',

'I be fine bouy, what's on?'

'What's on Watson?'

'Arr, what's on bouy?

'Noughts on, Watson...?

Confused, that can go on for hours until you get to the point where you have no idea what's on or what Watson is on about. However, the old fellow has the privilege of two nicknames, the other being, 'Sherry Sam'. This stems from his liking of Sherry and if you ever want to catch up with the newsin' you best have a bottle on the dresser because the more sherry Sam is plied with the juicer the gossip. There will come a point when he will say, 'I uddn't reelly tell ee this, but...', which means his has quaffed enough of the amber liquid to more than loosen his capacity for confidentiality. To illustrate just how much he adores the sherry he called his faithful collie 'Monty' which according to him is short for Montylado. This he will proudly tell you is in Spain and is where the sherry comes from. I know what you are thinking, but believe me there is no point in mentioning that it's actually Amontillado, as far as Watsons' concerned it definately is - Montylado, he, 'seed 'n in a dicshunry'?

So having explained the name, who is he? Well, Watson is the patriarch of the parish, nobody knows how old he is and that includes himself. Some days when the mist is down and you watch him shuffling along you could easily put him down for his nineties but then see him drop a bullock with one hand he could easily be in his forties. Watson lives on a tiny smallholding in the hamlet of Monkstown which nestles in a small valley on the eastern edge of the moor. Here he lives with his wife, or 'mother' as she is commonly known and of course the aforementioned Monty the collie. The Wannacotts farm about a hundred acres upon which they keep sheep, bullocks, pigs, geese and hens. The pride of the farm is the ancient apple orchard which is full of gnarled, twisted old trees that defy their age and year after year produce a heavy apple crop. These apples get taken to the dusty old cider shed where Watson with a little help from his secret recipe produces the best cider in the parish. To help make ends meet the old farmer will often turn his hand to hedging, walling, harvesting and other such seasonal jobs. Oh, and his 'evening walks' often result in a brace of pheasants for the pot or even a rabbit or two for the 'traditional pub grub' which is served up at the local inn.

Watson insists on dressing in the old style which gives him the look of the typical country bumpkin. Rain or shine he will be wearing an old smock top, brown corduroy trousers and a battered old green hat. Around his neck is draped a garish blue and crimson kerchief and eternally in his hand is a huge walking pole. His only nod at the modern world comes in the form of a pair of black, ex-army, 16 lace-hole paratrooper boots into which his trousers are stuffed. Once asked why he dressed in such a manner, the old boy gave a wry smile and said, 'the visitors love it an' I love the ale they buys I'. Which when I come to think of it is dead true, walk into the bar of the Tor Inn any summer night and you will see Watson holding court to an enthralled throng of holiday makers. Watch his glass carefully and you will note how its always full despite the fact he never leaves his seat, mind you the holiday makers are up and down like yo-yos.

So what's the purpose of this webpage? Simply this, before long the old boy isn't going to be around anymore and there seems to be no replacement for old moormen such as he. Everyday is an adventure whereby his traditional way of life clashes headlong into the modern world, usually with hilarious consequences and rarely without the old boys coming out on top. Therefore the intention is to record just some of the events, stories and escapades that occur in the day to day life of Watson Wannacott before its too late...