Welcome to The Hi! Line

or A Walk on the Mild Side

A fat pigeon sat on the wooden sign and looked down on Eric Bitheway accosting yet more innocent walkers on the lane outside his home. Eric had a theory, in fact Eric had plans for his theory together with a burning ambition to see his theory accepted and put into practice. The pigeon didn’t understand theories so it shat on the sign and flew off. This partly obscured the sign’s message which proclaimed, ‘Welcome to the Hi! Line, Have a Lovely Day’.

“So you see,” Eric was explaining to the elderly couple he had corralled in the narrow lane, “there is a line round every village or small rural town. Outside this line people nod and say Hi! when they meet, because outside this line are ‘proper’ walkers out to celebrate the countryside - inside the line are people going about their daily business with no time for such pleasantries.”

“I can’t see any line,” said the woman in the stout boots and sensible anorak, “What on earth are you talking about?”

“Ahh,” replied Eric embarking on a lengthy and detailed explanation of his theory that ended with... “it is invisible but strongly defined and I would like to see these lines recognised and registered by the Ordnance Survey, The Ramblers’ Association, English Heritage, Welcome to Yorkshire, Wintondale Borough Council and Clare Balding. Would you like to sign my petition?”

“No we wouldn’t. Good Luck with that but now we have to go, we’re on a strict timetable with a lunch booked at the Startled Sheep in Malham and can’t afford to stand here listening to you. Wake up, Arthur.” She poked her husband, who had nodded off during the conversation, with her sensible walking stick and strode off up the hill. As they left Arthur turned to nod at Eric and shrugged sadly. He liked signing petitions, it made him feel useful.

Eric sighed and stepped up onto the verge to wipe the pigeon muck off his sign. He quickly checked up and down the lane and, as there was no-one in sight, popped back into his cottage for a brew.

Eric had named his cottage ‘Wuthering Bottoms’ in homage to his favourite village of Haworth and its famous daughters. He was proud of his little picture postcard home, the door was surrounded by roses with a neatly trimmed hedge bordering the lane and a skillfully wrought iron name sign hung on the gate.

In fact many of the people he accosted, and explained his theory to, had been busy taking a photograph of his cottage at the time. But most importantly it was where he’d first decided that Hi! Lines existed, right at this very spot on the cobbled lane leading up to the moors and down to the small town of Gigglesworth.

Sipping his mug of Yorkshire Tea in his well worn armchair he could see, through the mullioned window, the high moors in the distance framed by the abundance of plants and trees in his back garden. He could also see his cat Emily watching some unaware starlings intently, while a Sparrow Hawk circled lazily, high in the warm afternoon air. Eric decided, right then, right there, that he would escalate his plans right now.

Rustling around in his small shed he found a half-full tin of still useable white emulsion left over after decorating his kitchen. Choosing a largish brush he went out onto the lane and painted a wide, white line across the cobbles. Now he could point out an actual line to folk who he hoped might be interested. The pigeon had returned and watched this with its head on one side while wondering whether to shit on the sign again, after all it’s what pigeons do. But it was not to be. As Eric stood back to admire his efforts a flash of feathers and talons hit the pigeon at extremely high speed and his sign was defaced yet again, but in a different way.

Coming up the hill were a pair of young girls in shorts and trainers, chatting happily and singing along to the music emanating loudly from their headphones. Eric decided that after explaining the white line on the ground he would also offer some advice, not only on suitable attire for these parts as they were obviously totally unprepared for the rigours of countryside walking, but also as to certain codes of conduct in respect of disturbing the peace and quiet. Putting on his best smile, which even his mother had described as ‘a bit of a leer’ he stepped into the path of the girls, who were so absorbed in themselves and their music they almost walked into him.

“Ey up, what do you think yer doing?” asked the taller blonde one, chewing savagely at her gum. “I nearly dropped me phone then.”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you, I just wanted a quick chat.” apologised Eric.

“It’s just that you don’t seem to be aware of the fact that you are at a point of great significance in countryside walking lore. That is you have reached the Hi! Line and I would like to ask you to sign my petition. I must also offer some tips on clothing and behaviour in these parts, but first let me explain the significance of this line you see before you.”

“What do yer mean ‘tips on clothing’?” responded the shorter but heftier one. “Are yer some sort of fashion guru or summat? What do you think ,Tracy, he wants to put us in some sort of position as well?” She took a long drag on her fag and looked Eric up and down. Eric wasn’t sure if he was a guru but nevertheless he persevered.

“This line is significant for denoting the subtle but actual line between strolling and walking. It’s a very important marker that you are leaving the hectic workaday life in the town and have reached the peace and serenity of nature. Also, you need to be wary of nettles, your shorts are very... short,” he mumbled.

“You looking at my legs? Ere, Trace, he’s looking at our legs he is. What are you, some kind of pervert? Are you a paediatrician or summat? Bugger off shortarse and leave us alone.” They ran, giggling, up the lane, every now and then turning round to wave a V sign until disappearing out of sight behind the high stone walls.

He’d just finished cleaning his sign again when a young man appeared fairly bounding up the hill. Proper boots, correct logo on his outerwear and a desireable day rucksack on his back. Not too large, not too small. Eric knew about that sort of thing, this person was genuine, could be a professional if there was such a thing. What Luck!

“Afternoon,” cried this professional walker, “A grand day to get out and about as my Grandad Alf always used to say. How are you?”

“I’m very well, thank you for asking.” replied Eric, feeling he had found a kindred spirit. “It’s good to see someone enjoying our countryside in this part of God’s own county.”

“Ah yes, I agree. It’s quaintly pretty here but I prefer the Lake District Fells, more of a real test.”

Eric was a little taken aback by the use of the word quaint but the fellow did have a point about the Lakes, they were quite a bit bigger.

“Oh, do you? Well it’s nice to meet you, I’m Eric.”

“And I’m William, call me Will. I say, what’s the significance of this line here and please tell me what is the Hi! Line?”

Eric Bitheway nearly fainted with excitement.

Almost 30mins later the two had become best friends, agreeing totally about the joys of walking in the countryside, about the need for proper equipment, the awfulness of supermarkets and the joys of Timothy Taylor’s beer. They had even exchanged telephone numbers, with Will readily signing the petition and asking to be kept in touch re. further developments at the Hi! Line. But it was time to part company. Will hoisted his rucksack onto his shoulder and turned to face the hill.

“By the way,” called Eric as he strode away. “William what?”

“Wainwright” came the reply.

Eric fainted.

As he came round a shadow fell across him and a tall, very tall, official looking man with a clipboard was enquiring after his well being.

“I’m quite all right thank you,” said Eric from a seated position. “What can I do for you?”

“My name is Kevin Azeuno. I’m here from Gigglesworth Town Council with regard to this sign and, now that I’m here, I see that I shall have to also take issue with you re. defacement of the public highway, which is probably also contrary to something.”

Eric stood up and looked at him closely. “What do you mean, as I know? I can’t possibly know your name, I’ve never seen you before.”

“If you prefer you can just call me Kevin. By the way...”

“It’s Mr Bitheway.”

“All right, Mr. Eric. But I must have your full name please. For my records.”

“It’s Eric Bitheway.”

There was a pregnant pause during which the council’s representative considered going back to the office and saying there was no-one in...

“By the way what?”

“Er. It’s a lovely day?”

Kevin shook his head to see if it helped. It didn’t. “Yes it is a lovely day, but there is the matter of an unapproved sign and now this paint on the road. I’m afraid the sign must come down and these markings must be erased.” Eric drew himself up to his full height and spoke directly into Kevin’s chest.

“You and whose army?”

“Well, it’s not exactly an army but the Council’s binmen could do a pretty good job.”

“You’ll have to carry me away kicking and screaming first.” spluttered Eric.

“I’m not sure they would be prepared to go that far. Although I wouldn’t bank on it.” smarmed Kevin.

“But I’ve got a petition!” cried Eric.

“And I’ve got binmen. I’ll be back the same time next week and I shall want to see, or not to see, that sign and that paint gone. I say that was a bit Shakespearian wasn’t it?” Kevin laughed quietly to himself but Eric didn’t get the joke.

That night he just couldn’t get to sleep, stymied at the outset by petty fogging bureaucracy. Were his efforts to end in vain? Would the Hi! Line survive? What did petty fogging mean? In the middle of the night he sat bolt upright, an invisible light bulb over his head had switched on.

Next morning saw Eric heading hastily down the hill into town, to the offices of the Wintondale Herald. He had an appointment with the Editor, Trevor Wattfour. Eric was on a mission.

It was a mission no-one really cared about but Trevor Wattfour saw an opportunity to inject a little controversy into the Herald’s otherwise same old, same old reporting of cats stuck up trees, bicycles being stolen and little old ladies holding afternoon teas at Gigglesworth Golden Age Club. Just for once it would be nice to have a little old lady stuck up a tree. A picture of the smile on her face when the Firemen arrived would be... Ah, he could dream.

So today he invited Eric into his office and sat him down.

“Now then Mr...?”

“Bitheway.” beamed Eric at this potential saviour.

“Yes, what?”

“Eric Bitheway,” answered Eric.

“Ah, got it. Wattfour.” he smiled and extended his hand across the table.

“Because it’s what my mother called me.”

“No, I mean what can I do for you?”

Eric briskly and presciently presented his case for the Hi! Line signs and markers and condemned the harsh, negative and overbearing policy of Gigglesworth Council towards his efforts to bring peace, harmony and joy to Wintondale. He also proudly produced his petition.

“I see you have only two signatures on here, a Mr.William and a Ms. Emily. Not much to be going on with.”

“There were hundreds but my biro ran out of ink.” explained Eric.

Trevor Wattfour however could see a story evolving.

“What would happen if some influential local people, plus a Herald photographer, turned up at the Hi! Line and protested at this attack on civil liberties?” he asked with a leer. Eric answered with a leer, this was more like it.

They agreed that the protest would take place a week on Wednesday, as long as it wasn’t raining. Eric left the offices of the Wintondale Herald with a spring in his step. Great times lay ahead.

The next Wednesday dawned bright and clear, a beautiful day for a protest.

Trevor Wattfour had called Eric the day before to confirm the attendance of their local MP Lady Cecilia Afterhew and the town’s doctor Dr Hugo Furst. Eric had also contacted the young William Wainwright who had said he’d try his best but couldn’t promise as he was due to climb Ben Nevis that day.

Eric was excited to be in the limelight and was wearing his best suit and tie. The Herald photographer was also excited, he’d asked for and been given a bright yellow hi-viz tabard with the word ‘PRESS’ on the back in big letters. He’d actually slept in it.

As the appointed time approached Eric went out into the lane and cleaned the sign again. He also tidied up the edges of the white line, set a small table by the gate with a bowl of crisps and the petition on it, and cleaned his downstairs toilet, just in case.

The photographer was first to arrive, pushing his bike up the hill before unloading a huge amount of photographic equipment from panniers at the back. His tabard shone in the morning sunlight as if it had been polished.

He proceeded to take some shots of Eric, by the sign, contemplating the white line, standing under his rose arbor, holding Emily, waving the petition and cleaning the sign again. He then scooped up an impolitely large handful of crisps.

Too late, Eric hadn’t time to replenish the bowl, the VIPs were coming.

Trevor Wattfour led the small group up to the Hi! Line before introducing Eric as the originator and leader of the Hi! Lines Licensing Society pressure group (HILLS). Eric was proud of that, he’d thought of it in the bath.

First to step forward was Kevin from the Council who was introduced by Trevor as Kevin Azeuno, as you know. Lady Cecilia and Dr Furst looked back blankly.

Next was Lady Cecilia Afterhew MP, there was a small ripple of applause before he announced, “Doctor Hugo Furst”.

“Hold on,” complained Kevin, “ I though it was Hugh first, the Lady Cecilia and then the doctor. Why is the doctor going first?”

“It’s the doctor first, then Hugh, then Lady Cecilia,” answered Trevor, “where were we, and where’s Hugh?”

Hugh who?” everyone asked.

Lady Cecilia had been distracted.

“Oh look everyone, I’ve got one of those,” she said, pointing to the sign hanging on the gate.

The assembled group looked at each other embarrassedly, then looked away.

It was the shot of a lifetime, the photographer acknowledged later.

The awkward air was broken by a strident voice shouting from up the path. Eric knew that voice, it was William Wainwright, he’d made it after all.

“Sorry I’m late,” he called to Eric, ”bit of a bugger on the way down Ben Nevis. Met an old rambling friend on the way back though...”

“Hello Eric, I’m so thrilled to meet you, Will’s been telling me all about you and the Hi! Line Project. I’d be delighted to help.”

Eric fainted.

As he came round a shadow fell across him and he looked up to see the concerned face of Clare Balding enquiring after his well being.

Will knelt down and, reaching into his backpack, took out a bottle of water. He handed it to Eric who took a great grateful gulp. Rubbing his eyes Eric sat up as straight as he could. This was Clare Balding after all.

As the three of them began an excited conversation about this being one of her favourite walks; that she had a new series of Ramblings coming up with Radio 4 and how Eric’s idea would make a perfect episode Eric’s eyes slowly glazed over.

He could see himself striding out alongside Clare, exchanging pleasant chit chat, showing her where local Hi!Lines existed, or standing next to Alan Bennett as a new Hi! Line was officially designated in Clapham, or sitting very still as David Hockney caught his best side.

Reality returned as the assembled great and good drifted away and his two celebrity friends signed their last autographs before heading home.

It had been a remarkable day in Gigglesworth. Trevor Wattfour had his big story, Kevin had got his comeuppance, the doctor had an appointment with Lady Cecilia to discuss her posterior problems and the photographer had another shot of a lifetime.

On Friday the Herald’s front page was filled by a photo and the headline...

“LOCAL MAN FALLS FOR CLARE BALDING”

Early one morning a few weeks later Eric Bitheway’s slumbers were rudely interrupted by the sound of a pneumatic drill outside his cottage. Peering through the curtains he saw Kevin Azukno directing two council employees as they dug a hole in the verge. In his verge!

Trying to avoid treading on Emily in his haste, he ran out of the front door in a fury, and also in a fetching pair of Berghaus pyjamas.

Fearing an imminent fracas Kevin quickly held out his hand and pointed...

It was a sign, a shiny new sign, Eric looked up. It read..

Here is the site of the original Hi! Line.

Discovered by Eric Bitheway on June 23rd 2020

Welcome to the Clare Balding Biway.

‘Better be pigeon proof,’ thought Eric proudly.