Picture from BFI
The word 'tramp' is defined as to walk heavily from one place to another, hence the word being attached to those transient beings that walk along in search of work. Sadly, the word has now become a blanket derogatory term for a homeless person or a beggar (in much the same way as 'gypsy' has been removed from its true meaning and used to describe those anti-social troublemakers that pitch up in school playing fields). Homeless people are the victims of circumstance whereas being a tramp was a lifestyle choice in which you could wander freely, unrestricted by the invisible shackles of rent or mortgage commitments. In America they used to call them 'hobo', travelling in search of seasonal work often by jumping on those open sided freight train carriages, if the films are to be believed. The honest tramp, a gentleman of the road, was not a threatening man (it was usually a man, I can't ever recall a female tramp), he was a friendly figure who appeared at certain times of the year in search of work. If you lived in a rural area he might turn up to help with the planting, or when there was harvesting or calving to be done and would work in return for a meal and a place to sleep. For a sandwich to sustain him on the next stage of his journey he might fix your garden fence or mow your lawn, and the only time he did anything resembling begging it was by raising his hat and offering a well mannered "My good sir, I wonder if you may be so kind as to supply 10p for a cup of tea?". I go to a lot of cafes and drink a lot of tea and I never found this place that sold it for 10p, maybe they had their own cafe like truckers always seemed to have?
(I'm not sure how much of this is based on actual memory and how much is what a childhood reading Enid Blyton books has impacted on me - I don't think Enid Blyton narrated my childhood because I wasn't a posh racist with a natural aptitude for solving mysteries).
The reason I am writing about this subject today is because I hadn't given the good old fashioned tramp a second thought until today. I hadn't even realised that we just don't seem to have them any more and they have ceased to exist in popular culture, (the last time I saw an all American hobo was in the 'Simpsons Tall Tales' episode of The Simpsons).
Picture from Simpsons-A-Day
Today though, I saw such a man. All that was missing was the handkerchief on a stick over his shoulder, while walking Jack today I saw an old fashioned gentleman of the road. I'm not sure where he was heading but he seemed in good spirits and said a cheerful "good morning" as we passed each other - I would have given him 10p for a cup of tea but he might have thought I was taking the piss.
It's a romantic notion when you ignore the little issues like the cold and rain and the lack of access to a shower, much like the traditional wish to run away and join the circus, the lure of the open road without the day to day grind of real life to drag you down is certainly tempting at times. Nowadays the 'cash in hand' economy isn't as blatant as it once was, if it exists at all, so you would have to rely on the good old barter system of working for food and shelter. It wouldn't work for me in reality because I'd be too knackered from carrying my record collection around while trying to stop Jack from barking at everything to mend anyone's fence, and Mandi would refuse to take on that lifestyle unless she was guaranteed a shower, change of clothes, and use of a hair dryer and straighteners, and that kind of defeats the object. You would also have to consider the fact that Royal Mail no longer use trains so that illegal but effective way of getting from one place to another isn't possible; I once travelled from London to York in a mail carriage sleeping on the sacks of letters, I nearly suffocated and only narrowly escaped arrest when they found me because I turned on the sob story of my ticket and money being stolen and I was desperate to get home. Perhaps these are the reasons you don't see them so much any more and they are consigned to things we pretend to miss when we are reminded of them, forever to be filed away with red telephone boxes and white dog shit.
Another thing worth pointing out about this tramp I saw today was how well dressed he was, for a tramp (and I hate myself for adding that caveat). Just as Charlie Chaplin's little tramp always wore a collar and tie, this man had a shirt and cravat, a long coat, waistcoat, big boots and a long bushy beard, all topped off with a Trilby hat. Now that I think about it he might not have been a tramp, he was probably on his way to Hockley to work behind the bar in a craft beer pub.
The Sunday Alternative will return soon.
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June housekeeping
The audio book of Bowie Day (a short story inspired by A Christmas Carol) will be released on August 31st. In the meantime the book can be downloaded to your Kindle from here.
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