'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.

It all began with my big mouth. I didn`t realise it at the time mind you; how could I when I was only nine years old? My eldest sister wanted to be married on her twenty-first birthday and so that was the date fixed. (She is fifteen years older than me and we have another sister ten years older than me.) The wedding venue was fixed too, or so all the rest of my family thought, up till then. All at once they were at variance with each other, vociferously in contention on the subject. As I recall, it sounded something like this:

My other sister. `You should have a traditional wedding.`

The bride-to-be. `By traditional you mean white veil, long dress, flowers in every place and all over the church? Not for me, Sis.`

My mother. `What on earth is wrong with that?`

My father. `What else could you do? Is he a Buddhist or something?`

`We shall have a Register Office wedding of course!`

Our mother`s voice went up a decibel. `Never! That`s for clandestine, -um hurried affairs in Mr. Ogden the Solicitor`s upstairs office.`

`Pooh! Not these days, Ma!`

Our father`s voice became authoritative. `Don`t call your mother Ma,`

`O.K. Pop. Anyway, we might elope to Gretna Green and be married over the blacksmith`s anvil!`

Our conventional sister was distraught. `Don`t talk such rot, even you wouldn`t go that far.`

`I jolly well would, try me!`

As I say, I was only nine and most of this was beyond my comprehension but the tension was appalling. They all began to shout at each other simultaneously, a cacophony of voices, high and low. `Control yourself!` `It`s my wedding, not yours!` `It`s for want of knowing better!` `Grow up, child.` `Keep up with the times for goodness sake!` `What planet do you live on?` `It`s foolish!`

`Don`t be so silly.`

In the end I remember crying loud tears of foolish consternation.

`Oh for goodness sake, Ma, shut that child up!`

`I feel like crying myself, it`s all too mystifying.` Mother put a hand on my shoulder and gave me her handkerchief.

`You must come to your senses before it`s too late.` Father put his hand on my other shoulder and gave me his handkerchief also.

Some days later, the man who was to marry my sister came, unaccompanied, to our house; on reconnaissance I realise now, with hindsight. He was an eccentric young man, given to wearing coloured silky-smooth shirts with full sleeves and he wore his red hair in a pigtail at the nape of his neck. My father called him "The Bohemian" but at the time I didn`t know what that meant. In addition, he had no manners; he bounced into the sitting room and chucked me under the chin. `Hello spud! Everything all settled then? All alongside?` There was a pregnant silence and he looked at each of us in turn. `What`s the matter? Cat got your tongues?`

`Not at all, young man, I have the feeling that you and my daughter are seeing to the agenda.` Father put out his hand to The Bohemian who mistook it for an American handshake and slapped it instead of shaking it. `O.K. man, all up to us eh?` Mother rose to her feet and, with her usual cyclical turn of phrase, complained, `Nothing is at all clear, do you see?` She caught hold of my hand and we stood and stared at him. The front door banged as he beat his retreat.

That`s all I can remember until the day of the wedding, except that father told mother that they couldn`t stay away because that would look ODD. In the event, everything was arranged outside our home; our parents had nothing to do with it. We all dressed up on the wedding day and went to the place where my sister and the Bohemian were to be married.

I quote from the diary I kept at the time. (Forgive the shocking spelling).

"eggsiting news sis is going to have what she calls a fun wedding"

"sis says she got the idea from my big mouth"

"the wunns I luv best called the Muppets"

"i can chuse witch wunn I wanna be but knot the frog or the pig"

"i will be a chiken and ware a mask of a beek and a red topknot"

"gess wat!!!!! sis will be Mispiggy and hymn Kurmit and dad Oldtimer"

"dad looks lik Oldtimer anyway so dad and mum are not in fansy dress"

"Boeheman got a peegreen suit and a mask with table tennis balls for ise"

"sis got a sattin dress died violent culler and a mask with long curls and eers"

"sis says the man hool marri them is Sam the Eegle"

"His nose is lik Sam but with a frosty face he says no laffing cos its not funny"

"my chiken suit is hot and scrachi but fun"

As I say, it all began with my big mouth. My sister used to call me Kermit - Kermit and Miss Piggy were my favourite Muppets characters so I didn`t mind at all. (By the way, in adulthood my mouth is not out of proportion with my face but at that time it must have looked extensive in my small countenance).

My other sister`s wedding was the time-honoured church ceremony with all the trimmings.

Where are my eldest sister and the Bohemian? Their whereabouts, together or separate, is by no means crystal-clear.

Me? My friends say I lack aspiration but I think I`m a little constrained in that quarter. After all, a puppy is not just for a Christmas present and a marriage is not just for a wedding.