www.albiestales.co.uk part two

TOWARDS THE END of the summer term, in June 1959, Albie was to face his biggest challenge to date: the Intermediate Examination! He always had a fear of exams as, whilst good enough at his term work, he always seemed to buckle at the knees and fail the dreaded tests. If that was not enough, just before Easter, an event occurred which placed additional pressure on the lad who was already beginning to worry at the thought of the forthcoming examination.

TAPPING QUIETLY on the Principal’s door, Albie, and his fellow art student, Geoffrey, waited patiently outside.

“Come in,” called Mr Spencer, tapping the ash from his briar pipe into a wastepaper bin. “I’ve sent for you because I’ve just had a request from the Curator of Norwich Castle Museum for two pen and ink illustrators – and you two are just right for the job!”

“A commission?” asked Geoff eagerly, grinning from ear to ear.

“Well, yes, and… no,” the Principal replied. “Yes, it is a commission or sorts, but, no – you won’t get paid!”

“Surely, we’re not expected to work for nothing, are we?” Albie asked. “Tha’s just not fair!”

“Rules are rules,” Nöel Spencer declared, “any income could affect your grant – besides it’ll be good experience for you and, who knows, if you play your cards right, this could be the first of many!”

Albie was rather concerned; he always dreaded examinations and the Intermediate examinations – the halfway point of his studies at the Art School – were but two months distant.

“But, what about our exams in June?” he protested. “There’s still a lotta course work to do…”

The Principal took his pipe out of mouth, resting it in an ashtray, and then leant back in his chair.

“There’ll be time enough for all that,” he said impatiently. “If you’d both worked a bit harder earlier this year, instead of messing about, there’d be no such need for panic now!”

Both Albie and Geoffrey had to admit that they hadn’t concentrated on their studies as well as they ought, preferring instead to play loud rock music on their guitars or getting up to all sorts of silly pranks instead of getting on with their work.

“The Curator, Mr Rainbird-Clarke, is expecting you first thing tomorrow morning – be there on time, won’t you!”

ALBIE AND GEOFF VISIT THE CASTLE MUSEUM

The next day, Albie and Geoff made their way to Norwich Castle Museum and their appointment with Mr Rainbird-Clarke, the Curator, arriving well before the official opening time of 10am. Ringing the bell, on the outer wall of the Keep, they waited for an Attendant to open the door.

“Yes?” said the smartly-dressed, uniformed man in a peaked cap, opening a small door to the heavily-fortified castle. “Can I help you?”

“We’ve come to see the Curator, please,” replied Albie, “an’ we’re from the Art School.”

“I gathered as much,” laughed the Attendant, glancing at their avant-garde manner of dress. “I like your purple shirt!”

The two students were shown the way to the Curator’s office, along deserted marble-floored corridors, echoing to their every footstep. Presently, a man arrived and introduced himself. “You must be the students I sent for,” he said, shaking their hands.

“Let’s get straight down to work shall we?” he continued, taking them upstairs to a balcony overlooking a library. “I gather you know why you’re here?”

“To illustrate a book for you?” queried Geoffrey, “ – at least that’s what our Principal has told us.”

“Yes, quite right,” the Curator replied, handing them some mapping pens and bottles of Indian ink. “You’ll find paper in that cupboard over there – I’ll just get some reference for you…”

With that, closing the door behind him, he left the room.

“I wonder what he wants us to draw?” said Albie, scratching his head. “Probably a map of Norfolk or suffin’…”

“Oh, no, I do hope not!” replied his friend, pulling a face, “Surely not – I do so hate maps, they’re just so boring!”

ARTEFACTS FROM A BYGONE AGE

Suddenly, the door opened again and the Curator returned, heavily weighed down with an armful of boxes. Taking the lid off the first box, he revealed a glistening, bronze axe-head, nestling in a protective layer of cotton wool. In other boxes were intricately-carved combs from the Roman period, whilst many other secrets lay, as yet, undiscovered in the remaining cardboard boxes.

Flint arrowheads and axes made by Neolithic man came to light, some sharp enough to cut flesh from the very bone. Terra-cotta bowls and dishes, made in fine Samian ware by the fairest of Roman hands, ready for juicy, fresh grapes from the Mediterranean, joined the display of artefacts.

There were also boxes full of slate beads – in smoky greys, blues and greens – the contents of many a funerary urn, once part of a necklace worn by some long-dead tribal king, or queen. A veritable treasure trove lay on the table before Albie and Geoff – and all for them to draw!

“I’ll leave you boys to it,” the Curator told them, “as I’m wanted next door in the laboratory – we’ve a new ‘find’ coming in this afternoon!”

Now, as you may recall, Geoff and Albie had always been interested in ‘anything old’ – which is why they became such good friends in the first place. They liked nothing better than to visit the local museums, when they should have been attending lectures on Matisse, Gauguin, Renoir or suchlike.

Whenever the two lads should have been somewhere else, they were always in one museum or another – indeed, that may have been the reason their Principal sent them to the Castle Museum in the first place!

“I really cannot believe this!” declared Albie, admiring the array of priceless artefacts laid out before them. “This is absolutely amazing – this more’n makes up for not being paid!”

Geoffrey agreed as well and, spoilt for choice, didn’t know where to start.

“You take the flint axe,” Albie decided, picking up a fine Roman comb, not unlike those used in recent modern times. “I’ll draw this little comb, for nits, I think it is!”

That morning, the art students produced a series of pen and ink drawings for the Curator’s new book – with each being a faithful reproduction of the artefact, using crosshatching and stippling to give depth, shading and texture.

So enthusiastic were they, that lunchtime passed without notice – but the best was yet to come.

During the afternoon, the Curator went to see how his small team of illustrators were getting on.

“Yes, they’re very good!” he said, looking at the display of highly-detailed artwork. “But, do take care you don’t put too much texture and detail into your work, as they could fill in when made smaller for my book!”

Albie could see what he meant as, in order to give his Roman comb a three-dimensional look, he had rather overdone the stipple effect – which had taken him hours!

“Perhaps you’d like a break,” the Curator suggested, “to see what goes on in our laboratory?”

THE WHITE FRIAR

In the museum's laboratory, where all the preservation and pickling of future exhibits took place, several assistants were hard at work having just taken delivery of the new ‘find’ the Curator had mentioned earlier.

On a large workbench, in the middle of the room, lay a decaying, wooden box. Poring over it, were two of the lab technicians brushing off centuries of accumulated earth and grime. Looking more closely, Albie noticed – what appeared to be – a foot!

“This is a coffin,” one of the technicians explained, “of a White Friar, unearthed recently during excavations, just down the road in Cowgate!”

Taking great care and with silent reverence, the lab assistants began to remove much of the earth infill, until a complete skeleton was uncovered. There, on its foot, were the still-recognisable remains of a brown, leather sandal – unveiled to the light of day for the first time in over six hundred years!

The Curator then gave the lads a brief explanation regarding the importance of the find.

“From the fragments of leather and cloth which remain,” he explained, indicating the shoe about to undergo preservation, “we can carbon-date the burial to within twenty years or so.”

“How exactly was the monk found?” Albie asked, out of interest. “I mean, were they diggin’ the road up, or suffin’?”

The Curator laughed. “No, Albie,” he said, “nothing quite like that! Apparently, some builders were digging footings for a bicycle shed at a local printers, when they hit these remains. So, they sent for us!”

“Where was that then?” asked Geoffrey.

“Jarrold Printing of Cowgate,” replied a lab technician, “that’s on the site of the old Whitefriars’ Monastery. They print postcards – Jarrold’s, not the monks!”

“I never knew they were printers,” said Albie, looking rather puzzled, “I just thought they had shops – like the one in London Street, an’ in Cromer!” As it happened, that was not to be the last he would hear of Jarrolds!

AN EXAMINATION APPROACHES...

Being at the Castle Museum, illustrating the Curator’s book, was more a labour of love than work to Geoff and Albie and, for both of them, it beat their usual daily round of lectures, life drawing and going out sketching in all weathers.

In fact, as time went on, they forgot all about the Art School, their studies and the Intermediate examination, which, for them, was fast approaching.

Each time it seemed their spell of illustrating the Curator’s book was nearing an end, more boxes of fascinating artefacts were unpacked before them.

Golden torcs, once worn by local chieftains and made from the finest, intricately-woven lengths of pure gold wire, were presented to them for illustrating in glorious black and white. Trays of coins from Boudicca’s violent reign – each embossed with the Iceni running horse – sparkled in front of them, urging them to put pens and ink to paper.

Was there to be no end to all the exhibits requiring their artistic talents, they asked themselves?

Albie and Geoff even worked until late into night, sometimes forced to forgo even the very briefest of meals, just making do with a hastily-snatched sandwich. Many was the time, leaving at the last minute, they would sprint down to Thorpe Station, catching the final train of the day by the skin of their teeth! Something just had to give!

Albie’s father had become increasingly concerned by his son’s seemingly total disregard for the Art School and his studies in general.

“Now, come on, boy Albie!” he complained one night, as the lad arrived home. “Tha’s been six weeks now, since you’ve been at the Castle – an’, I reck’n, enough’s enough!”

“But, Dad,” his son explained, “I’m really enjoying my work, besides, we’ll be finished soon...”

“You’ll be finished all right,” replied his father angrily, “when I’ve done with that Mr Spencer of yours – after all, what about your exams next month?”

“He said there’ll be time enough for them...” replied Albie.

But, as he took himself up to bed that night, he began to worry. Would there be time enough, he asked himself, as there was an awful lot of catching up to do – or was he about to fall by the wayside yet again?

Only time would tell!

NEXT: Albie has a bitter taste – and receives some bad news!

SOME OF ALBIE’S FAVOURITE WEBSITES A Norfolk Entertainer A Moment in Time Enjoy North Norfolk Enjoy Norwich Flint Holiday Cottages Norfolk Churches Norfolk Dialect Norfolk Village Signs Norwich City Hall and the Lions Picture Norfolk Remember Norfolk Sculthorpe Spyplanes

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