L A 1969

Leicester Advertiser, Friday February 14 1969 page 16

NEWCOMERS SLIP EASILY INTO VILLAGE LIFE HERE

Nearly every village has something about it that makes it different from others — and perhaps even makes it unique. Harby is no exception. As at Queniborough, two inns controlled by the same brewery nod agreeably at each other across the road. This is unusual, but not unique.

CHANGING VILLAGE LIFE

But for the last four months or so the newly-formed Stockmen's Association has been meeting at the White Hart (on the third Thursday of every month) the landlord, Mr. Jim Banner tells me. It is, he said, the only group of its kind in the country so far as he knew. It is not purely a local organisation, for members come from all over, from Peterborough Scunthorpe, as well as from many towns and villages nearer at hand. Mr. Banner was himself a butcher, but has been at the White Hart for some 18 years.

Cosmopolitan Atmosphere

The Association, I gather, started with only 10 members, but now there are well over 40, and they have asked Mr. Banner for a larger room to meet in.

Another thing which makes Harby different from most other villages—villages that have remained villages in
spite of some outer growth of estates — is its cosmopolitan atmosphere, to which the Stockmen's Association contributes in no small measure.Talking with a group in the White Hart — farmers, tradesmen, an accountant — I was suddenly told after about half an hour by one gentleman present that I had not yet spoken to any native of Harby. The gentleman in question, Mr. E. Manchester, was born in Harby right enough, but now lives in Hose and works in Melton Mowbray. But he was right about the others — they lived at Stathern, at Hose, at other villages but not at Harby. None the less they all met in Harby. To some extent these three villages — Stathern, Hose and Harby — in the Vale of Belvoir — seem to be almost a unity, though each has its own individuality.

But to live in this part of the Vale of Belvoir is a delight to anyone who loves the country; and the Vale, of course, is still very much hunting country — this week the Belvoir were meeting in Harby.

Very Expensive Sport

Mr. Tom Clamp, a farmer who hunts with the Belvoir, feels that the fairly recently formed supporters' club has helped. Hunting, he pointed out, is a very expensive sport — a reasonably good hunter, for instance, will cost at least £500, and that is only the beginning of the expense.

And this leads back to the cosmopolitan atmosphere of Harby. A good many years ago, a certain Mr. Charles Morris, who had been whipper-in, I understand, with the Belvoir, emigrated to Canada and in due course became huntsman of the Eglinton Hunt Club in Toronto, at that time presided over by Colonel Beardmore. Mr. Morris returned for a visit — this also was some little time ago — and after returning to Toronto has since died. In any event, the advent of a number of new residents in new houses is something Harby takes in its stride. Newcomers are accepted and assimilated with little delay. And what the newcomers are assimilated into, is — genuine village life — country life — and people who settle in Harby clearly want to enjoy country life.

Mixture Of New And Old

Though not remote, Harby is not particularly easy of access to any town or city. It is only about nine miles from Melton, but both Nottingham and Grantham are a considerable distance away, and so, of course, is Leicester.

Canon I. D. Powell-Hughes, the Rector of Harby, fully endorsed the view that newcomers slipped easily into the life of the village. Two newcomers, for instance, Mr. and Mrs. P. Furse, were members of the Parochial Church Council, he said. The combined Mothers' Union and Young Wives' Group showed a good mixture of "new" and "old." But, he pointed out that there had not been any great "population explosion.' Canon Powell-Hughes attributed, in some part, this ease of mixing to the fact that there had never been a squire, even in the old days.

No False Modesty

This, he suggested, had left the people to get along together without pressure or, presumably, any paternalism which can — and sometimes does — smother the individual life of the villagers. This freedom has led, clearly, to the sort of comfortable, independent, democratic atmosphere which is so much a part of the village.

So. having crossed the main road and seen the heart of the village of Harby, you come, quite naturally, to the other public house, The Nag's Head, of which Mr. T. K. Buxton has been the landlord for some 18 months. Here, again, the atmosphere was easy unconstrained and cosmopolitan — the sort of thing one meets with in New York or London. The stranger is accepted at his worth, and told about the village and its achievements with no false modesty. The Nag's Head is a XVth century building and was originally part of a priory, the landlord tells me, and later a farm and an ale house. It was restored and re-roofed in 1922, but the ancient oak beams remain, and there is a priest's hole to be found upstairs.

And the Village Institute, of which Mr. Jack Butcher is chairman, bears out the general picture of a true village life. It flourishes, and the whist drives and other forms of fun contribute toward its upkeep and toward the self-derived enjoyment of village life. Thus, one comes to the conclusion that Harby is one of the last strongholds of village life — perhaps remaining very much as it was a century ago; and, it might be hoped, very much as it will survive a century hence.

Pictures accompanying this article are to be seen by clicking on 1388, 1389, 1390, 1391, 1392 and 1393.