FAIR DAY

    It was the mid 1940’s, the days before marts when on fair day farmers brought pigs, sheep and cattle to town once a month to sell. Without any say in the matter townies handed over some of their streets to these swarthy men and their animals for a long and busy day. Farmers drove their stock many miles in the small hours of the morning to arrive early and secure the most favourable pitches. The fair was held in our part of town and we were woken early by the sound of cattle on the street outside. It was an exciting day for a small boy to have a glimpse of a life of which he knew nothing.

    The farmer kept his cattle under control on the street by facing them to the wall and standing behind them, ash plant in hand, ready to tap on the rump any animal that might think of turning round. Occasionally a beast would take advantage of a lapse in concentration and bolt for it. It would career down the middle of the street, only to be stopped by a farmer further down standing legs apart, arms extended, making as much noise as he could with his stick on the ground and ‘hup, hup, hupping’ on the top of his voice. When the beast saw there was no way through it was driven back to stand again facing the wall like a dunce.

    Farmers transported pigs; sows, bonamhs, and sometimes a boar in creel carts drawn by an ass or a jennet and pulled the cart in at right angles to the footpath. They unyoked the ass or jennet from between the shafts, propped them up, and brought the animal to one of the yards at Westgate or North Main Street to stable it for the day. Pigs often fell asleep and an interested buyer would poke them through the creels to stand them up the better to inspect them. Some farmers were entrusted by their wives with fowl or eggs to sell, no doubt with strict instructions as to price and in some cases with dire warnings not to drink the proceeds.    A cow brought to town for sale might have to be milked and some lucky townie housewife would receive a present of a pail of milk to cool and strain and share with neighbours.

    The deal to buy and sell a beast was a ritual. The purpose of this ritual was for the buyer to get the owner to reduce his inflated view of the value of his animal and for the seller to convince the buyer to increase his lesser estimate of its worth.    The prospective buyer would survey the beast from all angles to see if the critical points for its development were good, and to evaluate if it would fit into his scheme of things at home.    If it was still a possibility he might poke the animal to confirm his judgement. At this early stage neither would show his hand, but each would manoeuvre himself into the most advantageous position in which to offer tentatively the possibility of negotiation. A price would be mentioned as a starter and the ritual would begin, both employing every ruse possible to achieve their own price.    This involved offers and rejections and when the difference had been reduced to make a deal look possible there was much spitting on hands and walking away, when a third party might be brought in to broker the deal.    Eventually one or other, or more likely both, would compromise and the sale was sealed with the spit on the palm, the handshake and the return of the luck penny.    Many’s the farmer, however, brought home, unsold, a beast because he didn’t get his price, having stood for a long day at the fair.

    As the day wore on a farmyard smell hung heavily over the streets and animal sounds left nobody in any doubt that the country had come to town. Women on their way to shop or the working man going home for lunch kept to the middle of the street, careful to avoid what in a field would be a tidy cowpat but on the street was a dispersal of a yard or more in all directions. This was the kind of thing farmers took for granted but that scandalised townies. Should this natural function occur while he passed, the townie was quick to take evasive action and looked not to a farmer but to another townie to share his outrage as though the beast should have held on until it got home.

    Some of these bronzed and rugged people who came to town, did their business and went home. Others made a day of it no matter what.    They had lunch, some in pubs where there was nothing equivalent to what we know today as a pub lunch, while others went to Mernaghs Restaraunt or Love’s Cafe both on the Main Street near the Bull Ring.    

    There was an agricultural buzz on the town and it was good for trade, especially on the North Main Street. Shopkeepers took advantage of fair day.    Hardware merchants displayed spades, forks, turnip grinders, barbed wire and bags of seed on the footpath outside their shops and were amused by, but prepared for the haggle by the farmer to try to strike a deal for their purchase in the same way they would for a beast. Drapery shops hung clothes outside their doors and shoe shops displayed wellingtons and hobnailed boots on stands or on the footpath outside. Farmers knew quality from the inferior item when it came to clothing and footwear. They felt the quality of the material or flexed the boot, for anything they bought would be tested in all weathers and in the kind of rough conditions townies could hardly imagine.

    By late afternoon the business of the fair and the shopping had been done and most of the farmers had set out for home. The fire brigade came out and hosed down the streets to remove all traces of this rural invasion and return them to their rightful tenants for another month.