Dame Hilda: Life at the old manse can be very tranquil and relaxing. It would be even more tranquil and relaxing if Evadne didn't live there. But she does. The trouble is she has a sort of Victorian work ethic, which is somewhat surprising since her formative years must have fallen well before Victoria's time. But she's one of those who hates to see anybody taking it easy. The moment one puts one's feet up, reaches for a romantic novel and the glass of medium sherry she's off. ‘Come on stir your stumps.’ She says in that cock-a-too like voice of hers. ‘We live in a world of activity.’ And before I know what I'm doing, I'm doing something I didn't want to do. Like holding the creosote while she creosotes the fence. Well, one morning a week or two back, I was sitting with my feet up, sipping a glass of medium sherry when she started her old game of trying to make me feel uncomfortable.

{Drawing room.}

Dame Hilda: Do stop pacing about, Evadne, you're creating a draft. Why don't you sit down and relax?

Dr. Hinge: I don't want to sit down and relax.

Dame Hilda: Then why don't you go out and do something in the garden?

Dr. Hinge: I was doing something in the garden. But it started to rain.

Dame Hilda: Well, you've got your mackintosh and your life boatman’s hat,

Dr. Hinge: Hilda, It’s absolutely bucketing down!

Dame Hilda: Then go to the kitchen and pickle an onion or something.

Dr. Hinge: I can't go in the kitchen. Maud’s in there.

Dame Hilda: Not still, what on earths she up too?

Dr. Hinge: You know that apple pie she made? Well, she's sweeping it up off the floor

Dame Hilda: There you are, then, you can go in the kitchen and make us another apple pie, can't you?

Dr. Hinge: With her?

Dame Hilda: No, dear, with apples. Ha, ha, ha!

Dr. Hinge: Hilda, are you sure you should be drinking sherries at this hour of the morning?

Dame Hilda: A, sherry, dear. I am sipping a sherry. Do you know I can remember my maternal grandfather, Grandpa Fyfield, as we used to call him. And I can remember him being brought a glass of port and a plate of ginger biscuits on a silver salver, every morning, sharp at 11 o'clock.

Dr. Hinge: So what?

Dame Hilda: It's what they used to call civilisation, dear, that's all, gracious living. You must have heard of it?

Dr. Hinge: Yes, I have. It's what my maternal grandfather used to call decadence. Idle hands are the devil's playthings. That's what he always used to say.

Dame Hilda: He does sound an original thinker. Anyway, I bet he took a drink or two in the mornings. After all, he did own a brewery.

Dr. Hinge: He may on occasion have tasted the ale in the course of his duties, Hilda, but certainly not just for pleasure.

Dame Hilda: Oh, the ale was rotten, was it?

Dr. Hinge: You know what I mean. It was work first, pleasure later with grandfather.

Dame Hilda: Oh, your grandfather must have been a barrel of fun. Now I know who you take after.

Dr. Hinge: He was a fine-looking man. Mother always says I have his eyes.

Dame Hilda: You look as if you've got his spectacles as well.

Dr. Hinge: I say, just look at that rain, Hilda. No sign of it letting up. I tell you what. How about you and me clearing out the garage?

Dame Hilda: What an earth for.

Dr. Hinge: Because it's full of junk,

Dame Hilda: So’s your bedroom. If you want something to do, you should go and clear that out. You haven't washed your stuffed owl in months. And that mushroom bag under your bed needs changing.

Dr. Hinge: All right, lets go and do that then.

Dame Hilda: No, not me, Evadne, you. I am comfortable. I am perfectly happy and I am not moving.

Dr. Hinge: No wonder you're putting on weight.

Dame Hilda: I’m not Putting on weight!

Dr. Hinge: I think you are, you know, dear.

Dame Hilda: Oh, no, no. I am doing no such thing, Evadne? In fact, if you must know, I weigh exactly the same now as I did when I was 23.

Dr. Hinge: Then you must have been very overweight at 23, dear.

Dame Hilda: Well, it's better than being a bean pole.

Dr. Hinge: You definitely look fatter.

Dame Hilda: Evadne, It might interest you to know, dear, that I can still get into my coming out dress.

Dr. Hinge: Not without half of you coming out of it, dear!

Dame Hilda: Why can't you go and find something to do? Go and whitewash the coal cellar or something. And leave me to get on with my book. I've just got to a lovely part. She's standing on the balcony in the moonlight. And there's this man who's not a surgeon, but who's just done a heart transplant, because no one else was available. And he's just discovered that she's not really a ward orderly at all but an anaesthetist, who's taken the blame for someone else's mistake and is starting all over again from the bottom.

Dr. Hinge: What a very funny hospital.

Dame Hilda: It's a romantic novel, dear.

Dr. Hinge: Sounds like a load of tripe to me.

Dame Hilda: Well, it's certainly more fun than clearing out the garage.

Dr. Hinge: All right, then let's have a look at it.

Dame Hilda: No. If you want to read, get your own book.

Dr. Hinge: I don't feel like reading.

Dame Hilda: Well, I do. But I can see that I'm not going to be allowed to. So I suppose I may as well give up the attempt. Why don't you play something, dear?

Dr. Hinge: What?

Dame Hilda: Well, we'll play leapfrog if you like. But I meant on the piano.

Dr. Hinge: And I meant what shall I play on the piano?

Dame Hilda: Do you suppose the entire ring cycle would occupy you sufficiently?

Dr. Hinge: Now come along, Hilda. You choose something.

Dame Hilda: Oh, very well. Anything to get you sitting down. Now, what have we got that's nice and jolly? Oh, I know. There's that little song that grandpa Fyfield always used to like so much.

Dr. Hinge: Do we have to have something that he liked?

Dame Hilda: What would you prefer, dear, something your grandfather might have liked. Oh, now there's a whole book of moral songs here. Let me see, there's Work boys work and be contented, In gathering roses look out for the thorns, Sign the pledge for mother's sake. Or what about The drunkard's lone child, which begins, my father's a drunkard my mother is dead, does that help you?

Dr. Hinge: All right, dear we’ll settle for grandpa Fyfield’s song. If it's not too vulgar,

Dame Hilda: Grandpa Fyfield was never vulgar, Evadne? Though he was certainly nothing like a stuffy as your grandpa McWhirter sounds. Here we are, dear. This is the one. Sporting girls.

Dr. Hinge: Yes, I imagined it would be something like that.

Dame Hilda: It is not in the least bit vulgar, dear, but like grandpa Fyfield himself bless his silk hat and spats, it is just the teeniest weeniest bit rakish. Well, if you play it, dear, you'll find out, won't you?

Dr. Hinge: Very well then. Here goes.

By the style of our dress, you can easily guess

That we are, yes we are

In fact, all the public in general confess

That we are, yes we are

The up-to-date sporting young girls on the town

At tennis and cricket, we gain quite renown

At horse racing too we spend many a crown

For we are, yes we are

Fond of sporting, sporting

A jolly sight better than courting

We don't mix about snatching a millionaire

When we’re out

The people shout

They're they go without a doubt

Look, look, look. Jolly good sporting girls

We can't always win, still, we don't have a job

Oh, we are, yes we are

The only two ladies that choose to find

What we are, yes we are

At night times, we visit the famed music halls

The seats that we sit in you bet are the stalls

And we get every act to have three curtain calls

Oh, we are, yes we are

Fond of sporting, sporting.

A jolly sight better than courting

We don't mix about, snatching a millionaire

When we’re out

The people shout

They're they go without a doubt

Look, look, look. Jolly good sporting girls

In winter we go to gay Monte Carlo

For we are, yes, we are

They’re fond of the tables where life isn’t slow

For we are, yes, we are

We stroll through the boulevard without any hats

We’re recognised there to be in the front rack

We break all their hearts and then break the bank

Oh we are, yes, we are

Fond of sporting, sporting

A jolly sight better than courting

We don't mix about, snatching a millionaire

When we’re out

The people shout

They're they go without a doubt

Look, look, look. Jolly good sporting girls

Dame Hilda: That takes me back a few years. It was another world, wasn’t it,

Dr. Hinge: But here comes Maud to drag you back into this one, dear!

Maud: Excuse me, Dame ‘ilda.

Dame Hilda: Yes, Maud.

Maud: May I ‘ave a little word with you afor I does upstairs.

Dame Hilda: What is it?

Maud: You know you was going to ‘ave apple pie for lunch.

Dame Hilda: Yes, dear.

Maud: Well, I ‘ow would apple crumble suit?

Dame Hilda: Crumble?

Maud: Well, sort a crumble.

Dr. Hinge: What did you do, Maud? Sweep the pie up off the floor and shove it straight in the oven.

Maud: No, I did not, Doctor. I've tinkered with it. And I know what you're thinking, but that floor were clean as a new pin. I’d just carbolicked it. And them apples ain't tainted cos I tasted ‘em.

Dr. Hinge: Sounds better and better.

Dame Hilda: Such a shame I shan't be able to try it.

Dr. Hinge: And what, might I ask, is going to prevent you?

Dame Hilda: Oh, Evadne as you've so rightly pointed out, I do need to lose a little weight, dear.

{Door knocks!}

Dame Hilda:  Now, whoever can that be.

Maud: I'll go Dame ‘ilda, and then I'll get on with me work.

Dame Hilda: Thank you, Maud. Evadne, go to the window and see if you can see who it is, dear.

Dr. Hinge: Very well.

Dame Hilda: We might want to hide.

Dr. Hinge: It looks like Peter Moore's car out there.

Dame Hilda: Oh, good heavens. Them with the cobbled kitchen and the cartwheels on the wall. Is she with him?

Dr. Hinge: I can’t see her.

Dame Hilda: Good. Then whatever it is he's come for, it'll only take half the time.

Dr. Hinge: He's fetching something out of the back of his car.

Dame Hilda: It's not her, is it?

Dr. Hinge: Well, it's something longish, obviously awkward to handle, and it's covered in a sort of folk weave blanket.

Dame Hilda: That sounds like her.

Dr. Hinge: Whatever it is, he's bringing it in.

Maud: Well, ‘eaven alone knows what they'll make of it, but show it to ‘em by all means. Well, come along in then, they're in ‘ere.

Peter: Thank you. Good morning, ladies.

Dame Hilda: Ah, Mr. Moore. Good morning.

Dr. Hinge: Good morning.

Dame Hilda: Come in, dear.

Peter: I say Mrs. Print, be a sweetie, will you, take me titfer off for me, would you? I don't seem to have a spare hand.

Maud: Is that what they call a deer stalker ‘at?

Peter: No, no, no, no. Just a perfectly ordinary black country ratting cap. Father Christmas brought it last year.

Maud: Well, what you want me to do with it? ‘ang on the ‘all stand or bung it in a cage?

Peter: Hang it on the hall stand, eh.

Dr. Hinge: And do please keep it out of the kitchen, Maud. I’d hate to come across it in the apple grumble.

Dame Hilda: Mr. Moore, is your wife with you?

Peter: No, not this morning, Dame Hilda.

Dame Hilda: Oh, what a shame. Isn't that a shame, Evadne?

Dr. Hinge: Isn't it a shame, Hilda?

Peter: No, Tuesday's her goat morning.

Dame Hilda: Her what, dear?

Peter: Well, we thought we might keep a few goats, so she's joined a goat club. She goes every Tuesday. Last week she did milking, this week it's cheese making, and I'm hoping that next week it'll be how to make waistcoats and trousers.

Dr. Hinge: Goat skin trousers? Mr. Moore.

Peter: Only for weekends, of course. I say, you don't think that would be too much, do you?

Dr. Hinge: I don’t see why it should. They look all right on goats.

Dame Hilda: So, well, what brings you here this morning, Mr. Moore?

Peter: Ah, yes, well, this does. Mind if I put it down?

Dame Hilda: Oh, do, dear, do. What is it?

Peter: Well, I'll show you. I had to tie this old poncho of D's round it, to keep it dry, it's absolutely bucketing down at home.

Dr. Hinge: It's bucketing down here as well.

Peter: Ah, there. Now have a look at that. What do you think of that?

Dame Hilda: Well, it's a bicycle, isn't it? Without wheels. What did you bring it here for, dear? Do you want Evadne to bury it where she buried her old one.

Dr. Hinge: It's an exercise bicycle, Hilda.

Peter: Well done, Doctor. But do either of you notice anything strange about it?

Dame Hilda: It hasn't got a bell.

Dr. Hinge: What do you want a bell for on an exercise bicycle?

Dame Hilda: To tinkle, Evadne. When one felt in need of refreshment.

Peter: I say that's not a bad idea. I knew it was a bright idea to bring this up here.

Dr. Hinge: Well, I'm glad you're pleased with yourself, Mr. Moore. Perhaps you’ll tell us what this is all about.

Peter: I'm sorry, Doctor, you're right, of course. You see, I'm in market research, and my firm has been asked to test the water for what is undoubtedly a revolutionary type of exercise bicycle. Look, it may not have a bell or a basket as yet, Dame Hilda, but it has two saddles, two sets of handlebars and four pedals. What does that suggest?

Dame Hilda: It was designed by an idiot.

Peter: It's an exercise tandem.

Dr. Hinge: Oh, god!

Peter: You see, it's been suggested that where cycling is normally a jolly and social affair, exercise cycling is a sad and solitary one. As soon as you start pedalling, everyone leaves the room.

Dame Hilda: I can't say I blame them.

Dr. Hinge: Hence the loneliness of the long distance peddler.

Peter: Hence the tandem, now you can peddle together. Husband with wife, brother with sister, uncle with aunt, boyfriend with girlfriend and so on and so forth. In fact, if the tandem model is successful, the company is thinking of launching a four-seater family version. Individually painted to match the decor of your own rumpus room.

Dr. Hinge: If the idea is successful, Mr. Moore it would appear from the design that people are going to be seeing an awful lot of each other's backs.

Dame Hilda: I say, that's a sharp remark, Evadne. You're getting some good stuff from us, aren't you, Mr. Moore?

Peter: Well, to tell the truth, we're a jump ahead of the Doctor on that one. Just a few simple tweaks with the box spanner provided and there we go. Voila! You can sit facing each other, side by side or even back to back.

Dr. Hinge: That sounds rather anti-social.

Dame Hilda: Presumably, that's for people who hate the sight of each other.

Peter: Just so. After all, they need exercise as much as anyone else.

Dr. Hinge: And where do we come into this, Mr. Moore?

Peter: Well, what I was hoping was that you might agree to my leaving this prototype with you so that you can give it a whirl in your own time and then let me have your comments. You see, we're eventually planning a famous pairs advertising campaign. Fame and fitness in tandem, featuring well-known duos who regularly use the bike. Maggie Thatcher and Dennis, Rod Hull and Emu, and of course, your good selves, I hope. There'll be a fee, of course, and the bike will be yours.

Dame Hilda: Just what I've always wanted.

Peter: Good! Well, I'll take up no more of your time now, but I'll give you a tinkle in a couple of days just to see how you're getting on. That'll be Okey dokey, will it?

Dr. Hinge: That'll be perfectly Okey dokey, Mr. Moore.

Dame Hilda: It couldn't be Okier dokier, dear.

Peter: Well, I'll be making tracks then. It's all right I know where the door is. Ciao!

Dr. Hinge: Goodbye.

Dame Hilda: Arrivederci, Mr. Moore. Where on Earth are we going to put that darn thing, Evadne?

Dr. Hinge: How about under the window. And then we’ll have the window open and get a nice breath of fresh air while we're cycling.

Dame Hilda: What do you mean, while we're cycling? You're not getting me on that!

Dr. Hinge: Why ever not? You admitted you needed lose a little weight.

Dame Hilda: I did not! When did I say that?

Dr. Hinge: You admitted to me in front of Maud.

Dame Hilda: Oh, Evadne, what I tell you in front of Maud is usually meant for Maud's ears and has nothing whatever to do with you.

Dr. Hinge: Have it your own way, Hilda. Come on, let's just try the bike.

Dame Hilda:  No. Suppose somebody were to walk past that window and see us. I mean, what would they think? We'd look like a couple of witches on a broomstick. Well, you would.

Dr. Hinge: If you never had the slightest intention of even trying it, dear, you should have told Mr. Moore so at the start.

Dame Hilda: Why?

Dr. Hinge: Because you’re not being fair to him. In a couple of days' time, he's going to want to know what we think of it, isn't it?

Dame Hilda: And when he does, I shall certainly tell him.

Dr. Hinge: What will you tell him?

Dame Hilda: I shall tell him that I think it's absolutely marvellous.

Dr. Hinge: Which will be a lie.

Dame Hilda: What does it matter? It'll make him happy. And probably rich. It will also give a lot of pleasure to a lot of fat fools. So where's the harm?

Dr. Hinge: Honestly, Hilda, I sometimes wonder about you.

Dame Hilda: I bet it's not half as often as I wonder about you. Why don't you try it?

Dr. Hinge: All right, I will.

Maud: Dame ‘ilda!

Dr. Hinge: No, I won't.

Dame Hilda: Yes, Maud, what is it?

Maud: If there's nothing else you want me for I’ll be getting off ‘ome.

Dame Hilda: No, I don't think there's anything else, dear. Unless you fancy a spin on our new tandem there with the Doctor.

Maud: No, I don't.

Dame Hilda: I don't blame you.

Dr. Hinge: How do you get your exercise then, Maud? Tossing the caber?

Maud: I get most of it clearing up after you, Doctor!

Dame Hilda: Well, you asked for that, Evadne, don't say you didn’t.

Maud: But you know, Dame ‘ilda, I can't look at a tandem without coming over all funny.

Dr. Hinge: Trust you to blame it on a bike.

Dame Hilda: All right, Evadne. That’ll do, you've got your own back. But what exactly have you got against Tandems, Maud?

Maud: My Arthur and me used to ‘ave one when we was first married Dame ‘ilda. That's ‘ow they lost the toll ‘ouse at the bottom of the ‘ill.

Dame Hilda: Oh. I say, you must have been going at a bit of a lick.

Maud: Oh, it weren't like that.

Dr. Hinge: No, I bet it wasn't. It'd be far too simple.

Maud: It were Saturday, do you see. Well, we gets stopped at them lights at the top of the town. And while we stopped, I spot this cake shop window and I ‘opped off to ‘ave a look in. Now, whether it was the cream ‘orns or the devonshire splits, I don't know, but summat ‘eld my attention, and I never seed them lights change to green, nor my Arthur pedalling off without me.

Dame Hilda: You don't mean to tell me that he didn't notice that you weren't on the back?

Maud: Well, if ‘e did, ‘e didn't show it.

Dame Hilda: But surely when he discovered you weren't there, he came back for you, dear.

Dr. Hinge: Why should he have done?

Dame Hilda: Oh, shut up, Evadne. This is a very sad story. How would you like to be left in the lurch? No, I'm sorry I asked that.

Maud: Oh, ‘e came back all right, Dame ‘ilda, but not till it were too late. I were well on my way with the fishmonger be then.

Dame Hilda: Perhaps we'd better not go into this too deeply, dear.

Maud: ‘e picked me up, do you see?

Dr. Hinge: Yes, that's what Hilda meant, I think.

Maud: To give me a lift, like, See, ‘ed an aunt who lived in Stackton that liked fish, and adn’t ‘ad a bit for some time. ‘e offers to run me ‘ome.

Dame Hilda: I bet Arthur was surprised when you arrived home with a fishmonger, wasn't he?

Maud: I didn't arrive ‘ome with a fishmonger, Dame ‘ilda. I arrived ‘ome with a special constable, and the man as runs the dodgems.

Dr. Hinge: I'm sorry, did I nod off? I seem to have missed something.

Maud: See, we gets to the top of Wendlebury ‘ill, and old fishy cod lips stops to answer a call o’ nature. While I go to look out the back window to make sure I couldn't see ‘im, my bottom ‘its the ‘andbrake, and I were off, Dame ‘ilda, and gathering speed, and that's when I sees the traction engine.

Dame Hilda: What traction engine?

Maud: The traction engine as was coming up the ‘ill towards me, pulling the ‘elter skelter to the May fair on the common. And right behind it, another with the dodgems and all them caravans. Well, I just closes my eyes and prays. And when I comes to, the toll ‘ouse were gone, the elter' skelter were tipped out on the rubble, the dodgems was in the ditch, the caravans were in the ditch. It was all over the place, and I were in an ‘ay stack with the tattooed lady.

Dr. Hinge: What was she doing? Reading your palm?

Maud: She were ‘elping me out, Doctor. Oh, she were a proper lady. Despite some of the things she'd got drawed on ‘er. And you know, when I get ‘ome all my Arthur says to me is, that's the last time I'm ever taking you out for a pedal.

Dame Hilda:  Well, there you are then Maud. That machine over there is perfect for you, and Arthur. No matter what happens, you can never be separated.

{ Later.}

Dame Hilda:  So, Maud, went home, and shortly after lunch, Evadne popped down to the village to post a letter. While I was on my own, I decided to try the bike.

Dame Hilda:

It won't be a stylish marriage

We can't afford a carriage

But I’ll look sweet

Upon the seat of a bicycle

Dame Hilda: Hello!

Peter: It's me Dame Hilda, Peter Moore.

Dame Hilda: I’m in the drawing room, dear. Be an angel and come round to the garden window, would you?  It is open.

Peter:  Righty oh! coming round.

Dame Hilda:  Oh, dear {Struggles.} Ah, Mr. Moore, there you are. Well, come along in.

Peter: Thank you. Just... Oh, I'm sorry to disturb you, Dame Hilda, but I left my hat here this morning. Oh, you're on the bike already, are you? Goodo! Any comments so far?

Dame Hilda: Just one, dear.

Peter: Dame Hilda: What's that?

Dame Hilda: How in heaven's name does one get off this thing?

Peter: I say you're not stuck, are you?

Dame Hilda: No, no, of course not. It's just that I can't seem to get off it. My feet don't touch the floor, dear, and I'm terrified of tipping it.

Peter: Ah, the saddles just a touch too high for you?

Dame Hilda: I knew there'd be a perfectly simple explanation.

Peter: I'll soon fix that if you'll just hop off for a minute.

Dame Hilda: Yes, oh, of course, that's the trouble, dear, you see, the hopping off.

Peter: I’ll tell you what, I'll grab hold of the handlebars to steady her, that's it. Now, you put that arm round my shoulders and very gently we lift, very gently!

Dame Hilda: Ooh! Ooh!

Peter: Well, that's fine, Dame Hilda, if you feel safer with both arms tight round my neck.

Dame Hilda: Sorry!

Peter: That's better.

Dame Hilda: Now, push me upright again, would you? Or can't you do that while you're doing the splits?

Peter: Ah! I've seem to have got myself stuck, I'm afraid. D, always said these trousers were too tight.

Dame Hilda: I'm slipping, I'm slipping.

Peter: Oh, dear, hang on, hang on, will you?

Dr. Hinge: Hilda, what's on earth is going on?

Dame Hilda: Oh, Evadne? I never thought I'd be so glad to see you, dear. Do something, would you? Do do something, dear.

Dr. Hinge: And what would you like me to do? Jump on your shoulders and complete the pyramid.

Dame Hilda: Poor Mr. Moore's got himself stuck.

Peter: Yes, I tell you what, just push my right leg a little closer to my left and gently lever me into an upright position.

Dr. Hinge: Very well.

Peter: Thank you.

Dr. Hinge: Here goes!

Peter: Careful.

Dame Hilda: Gently, Evadne. Gently. Oh, oh, help, it's tipping the other way.

Peter: Quick, Doctor, round the other side, catch her quickly.

Dame Hilda: Pull me, Mr. Moore, pull me! Now!

Dr. Hinge: Don’t make such a fuss. Hilda, you’d think you were on a unicycle? There, that's steady enough.

Peter: If you could just let go of my neck once more, Dame Hilda. 

Dame Hilda: Oh, I'm sorry, dear.

Peter: Oh, thank you.

Dame Hilda: Well, I must say this little incident has proved one thing, hasn't it, Evadne?

Dr. Hinge: And what's that?

Dame Hilda: Well, with one of these things, you can have fun and get a lot of exercise. I bet there's not a single muscle I haven't used.

Transcribed by Lorraine Taylor