Tressel: Work and Time
This is from a novel, "The Ragged Trousered Phillanthropists" by Robert Tressel. First published in Great Britain by Grant Richards, 1914, and Lawrence & Wishart, 1955. Tressel is his pen name, from the trestle table, part of the basic equipment of house painters and sign writers. It's a novel which is introduced with Tressel's lines: "this work which must be done or I will die in the work house". He submitted it to several publishers, but because it was handwritten, the publishers returned it without reading it. The book wasn't published till three years after his death - he died at 40 of tuberculosis - but hasn't been out of print since.
The novel is about a group of painters and decorators, and their families, in Hastings (Mugsborough), around 1906.
This extract is from page 46.
[thanks to Shveta for finding and sharing it.]
The novel is about a group of painters and decorators, and their families, in Hastings (Mugsborough), around 1906.
This extract is from page 46.
[thanks to Shveta for finding and sharing it.]
Presently Harlow began to sing. He had a good voice and it was a good song, but his mates just then did not appreciate either one or the other. His singing was the signal for an outburst of excalmations and catcalls.
"Shut it, for Christ's sake!"
"That's enough of that bloody row!"
And so on. Harlow stopped.
"How's the enemy?" asked Easton presently, addressing no one in particular.
"Don't know," replied Bundy. "It must be aout half past four. Ask Slyme; he's got a watch."
It was a quarter past four.
"It gets dark very early now," said Easton.
"Yes," replied Bundy. "It's been very dull all day. I think it's goin' to rain. Listen to the wind."
"I 'ope not," replied Easton. "That means a wet shirt goin' 'ome."
He called out to old Jack Linden, who was still working at the front doors:
"Is it raining Jack?"
Old Jack, his pipe still in his mouth, turned to look at the weather. It was raining, but Linden did not see thr large drops which splashed heavily upon the ground. He saw only Hunter, who was standing at the gate, watching him. For a few seconds the two men looked at each other in silence. Linden was paralysed with fear. Recovering himself, he hastiy removed his pipe, but it was too late.
Misery strode up.
"Shut it, for Christ's sake!"
"That's enough of that bloody row!"
And so on. Harlow stopped.
"How's the enemy?" asked Easton presently, addressing no one in particular.
"Don't know," replied Bundy. "It must be aout half past four. Ask Slyme; he's got a watch."
It was a quarter past four.
"It gets dark very early now," said Easton.
"Yes," replied Bundy. "It's been very dull all day. I think it's goin' to rain. Listen to the wind."
"I 'ope not," replied Easton. "That means a wet shirt goin' 'ome."
He called out to old Jack Linden, who was still working at the front doors:
"Is it raining Jack?"
Old Jack, his pipe still in his mouth, turned to look at the weather. It was raining, but Linden did not see thr large drops which splashed heavily upon the ground. He saw only Hunter, who was standing at the gate, watching him. For a few seconds the two men looked at each other in silence. Linden was paralysed with fear. Recovering himself, he hastiy removed his pipe, but it was too late.
Misery strode up.
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