'As neither of you have previous encounters with the law, I've taken this into consideration. You have been found guilty. Do you have anything to say before I pass sentence?'

Uncle Will with his usual sarcasm asked,

'The 'Dies Irae' perhaps ..?'

Utterly discomfited, the Chairman of the Bench, an old maid, engulfed in black lace and au- de- cologne, adjusted her pince-nez as she tried to preserve her dignity and pronounced a fine of two pounds plus six shillings costs each.

'Damned magistrates' muttered Uncle Owen as he and Uncle Will stepped gingerly from the small scrubbed pine dock in the Menai Bridge Magistrate court.

'Come on Will let's go to the Victoria. A few whiskies will help us rid of this awful smell of disinfectant.'

'If you have anything to say you will address the Bench' she called. They ignored her.

I tiptoed out of the Public Gallery after my two Uncles as they stepped through the outer door into the sunlight, having first shaken the hands of their Masonic police friends. They were surprised to find several friends and neighbours had gathered in the roadway in support.

'Speech, speech, 'Dick Dinam Arms shouted. I remember I was horrified as Uncle Will could go on at lengths.

Uncle Will stood on the court's steps and addressed his public, as he later referred to them.

'Friends, thank you all for coming to ...'

'For God's sake Will.' Uncle Owen said, trying to usher his brother away. Uncle Will not to be outdone, I heard him say, above the cheering.

'Common sense has been trampled into the dust today. Come, one and all, let us repair into the Victoria Hotel, the drinks are on me.' They needed no second invitation. Members of the local constabulary who had heard the generous offer felt it their duty to escort the down trodden. Led by a friend they sang, very loudly and out of tune, a popular Temperance Hymn of the 1904 Religious Revival as they marched towards the hotel to drink.

Tom Fifteen acres, Mary Magdalene's husband, more theologically confused than usual, with his life dedicated to Christ and total abstinence, and unable to contain his excitement was heard to shout ,

'Bugger Ifan Roberts, let's all have a drink.'

A young police Inspector, new to the area, and obviously torn between duty and the open invitation, said to his sergeant,

'Look out for this man Roberts, he could be dangerous.'

'Pastor Roberts led the religious revival sir,' said the older policeman, ' he's been dead for years.' Still suspicious, the Inspector said, 'It is our solemn duty to protect these God fearing farmers.' He then followed the singing crowd towards the hostelry.

Once in the Hotel they settled down to drink while I, at fourteen, was given lemonade but only after the Police inspector had queried the legality of my presence at a hostelry and had me to sit apart from the drinkers.

'Our trouble, as you all know,' Uncle Owen said to the gathering, 'is to do with this new act - The Public Health Act of 1936,' He went on to explain how the County Council had appointed a Sanitary Inspector, whose duties, amongst many others, was to ensure that buildings housing animals were not too close to dwellings inhabited by humans. As all Government decrees varied so much between concept and practice, no one had given a thought to the cost of the alterations necessary in order to comply with the Act. None present, with the exception of Uncle Owen, he being a solicitor, had even heard of the Act. It was obvious he could not have made himself understood, as someone called Lloyd George a bastard.

Uncle Will stood up and called for order.

'Gentlemen, have you all got a drink?' Assured by their shouts he continued. 'I wish to thank you all for coming to support us.' He looked around and failing to see the local councillor continued, 'I am sorry to find our council representative absent, not that one expected anything of him. You all know him - quite unsuitable - voted into office by the un -caring to do the unnecessary at our expense.' He was loudly cheered.

After several rounds the demon drink was holding sway even onto the Police Inspector, as calls of 'Hang him' went unheeded.

'Now,' he continued 'the real hero, as you all know, cannot be here today; I refer to our old friend Canera. It is he, whose health we should be drinking.'

The police inspector turned to his sergeant and asked, 'who is his friend Canera?'

'I don't know sir, a foreigner probably or an Irish farm hand.'

'Find out will you sergeant?'

'Yes sir,'

It seemed Uncle Will was becoming a trifle blurred about his whereabouts and thought he was at a Masonic dinner. He said, turning to Uncle Owen,

'Worshipful Master, – with your permission I would like to propose a toast.' Uncle Owen to my surprise nodded – he seemed equally adrift. Uncle Will paused, looked at the gathering, then with blurred speech continued; 'brethren, please be upstanding, charge your glasses as I wish to propose a toast.' Waiting until they all had re-filled their glasses he said, ' The toast Gentlemen is 'Canera,' his health and continued happiness even if on occasions he is decidedly psychotic and criminal in intent and deed.'

The police sergeant turned to the Inspector and said, 'Canera is one of his Irish farm labourers, no doubt about it sir. Criminals they are.'

The police Inspector reached for his notebook. On a new page he entered and underlined the word 'Canera,' and in brackets, Irish farm labourer, the date, place, time and waited, his pencil poised ready for more incriminating evidence to be revealed. Tom fifteen acres was crying.

'Think of the wasted years,' he wailed to his new found police friend as he struggled to stand before collapsing in a heap on to the floor – alongside a farmer and two grossly overweight policemen. Before passing out completely he called me over handed me a sixpenny piece and I think he said, 'don't tell the wife I've had a drink – there's a good lad.' I nodded.

Those sober enough stood and raised their glasses but they had forgotten whom to Toast and shouted, ' Jesus, God bless him.' However before they sat down, Uncle Will continued.

'The honours, Gentlemen, are three times three, taking your time from me.' After a ritualistic clapping, understood by the Masons and copied by the unsteady and confused remnants, they sang "Worthy Mason He." a Masonic drinking refrain.

Uncle Will signalled the barman to refill his glass. 'No water,' he said, 'save it for the Baptists.' He continued, 'thank you, one and all, for the kind manner you responded to the toast. Canera, as you all know, was responsible for the hospitalisation of that dreaded little sanitary man who has, from time to time, troubled us all.' There were loud cheers.

'Help yourselves to food and drink gentlemen,' waving towards the sandwiches and heated sausage rolls which the hotel staff suddenly produced – Uncle Will, his eyes glazing over, asked the waiter,

'Did I order them?' But he seemed pleased as he helped himself to sausage rolls. He paused to take his glass from the barman, and continued.

'You will remember, I'm sure, when he visited our farm three months ago he remonstrated against something or other, unfortunately Canera overheard what was said and assaulted him.' There were tremendous cheers and shouts of 'Good old Canera.'

'If the silly man had stood his ground and looked Canera straight in the eye everything would have been alright.' Uncle Will had a mania about the efficacy of establishing eye contact.

'I tried to intervene, but he ignored me. Dr Coyle said the sanitary man was in a bad way and needed to be admitted to the local hospital. However, one does not place too much credence on the opinion of someone who qualified in some obscure apothecary in County Cork. I became quite concerned when Ned the blacksmith, our part-time ambulance man said the sanitary man looked bad. He knows. Very upset, both Owen and I went indoors to settle our nerves with a little medicinal whisky. When the constable came, an hour or so later, the idiot,' turning to the Police Inspector, 'no offence intended.' The Inspector waved nonchalantly and smiled a bleary whisky smile, in total agreement about his constable's mental state. He had by then lost his note book and pencil.