THE centenary of Penrith Town Hall slipped past without comment or celebration — until the latest newsletter of Cumbria Family History Society carried a “Looking Backwards”-style page by Jeremy Godwin, which mentioned the opening of the handsome building in 1906.

As long-time headquarters of Penrith Urban Council and, more recently, of Eden District Council, the Town Hall is not just a pretty face!

The building has provided a stage for proud, well-intentioned men and women who have guided the progress of Penrith and made vital decisions, such as the building of Scaws housing estate, around 60 years ago, and the call for a bypass to relieve the town’s mounting traffic problems, in the 1960s.

Key figures were the men who served as clerk to the urban council — just three in the 80-year history of the authority. Nobody alive today can recall the first of the trio, George Wainwright, but there are clear memories of his successors.

The late Charles Henry Huntley and the late Herbert Rayworth, who died recently aged 97 after living in Penrith in retirement, were both caring and approachable officials, men dedicated to the advancement of the town, with no pretensions of grandeur.

Politics played little part in the old authority. Most councillors stood as “independents” and even those who represented Labour seemed to put town before party.

“Vote for Yeates and keep down the rates,” declared a senior member, Joseph Simpson-Yeates. His colleagues also preached economy and the need to be canny with cash was often the theme of annual reports by Robert Irving and Ken Jones, the town’s “Chancellors of the Exchequer”.

In lighter vein, the council had characters who enlivened meetings with the strength of their views and the forceful way they delivered them.

Among the most colourful, around 50 years ago, was J. J. Moffat, often referred to as “Cherry Blossom” because of the product he sold as a commercial traveller.

Bowler-hatted and bespectacled, Mr. Moffat arrived at council meetings clutching a cluster of papers — the speeches he hoped to give on a vast variety of subjects, including a slashing attack on professional boxing, which he saw as depraved and not acceptable in Penrith.

But the Town Hall of old was not just about talkative councillors and vital decisions. It was a multi-purpose building where Penrithians attended wedding receptions, dances, whist drives and lectures.

BATTLE FOR A CROWN

Temple Sowerby versus Maulds Meaburn — the bloodless battle took place many years ago for the title of Queen of Westmorland villages.

The “battlefield” was the letters page of the Herald, whose editor, Tom Sarginson (“Silverpen”), stirred the controversy by travelling into the countryside to assess the rival claims of delightful villages, both enriched by sweeping greens. It was a beauty contest with a difference, with strong support for both contenders, but in time Maulds Meaburn’s challenge was forgotten and Temple Sowerby held on to the traditional title, despite being plagued by the A66 and masses of heavy traffic, until the recent opening of a bypass.

The controversy of more than 50 years ago has been recalled in a letter from Jim Pallister, Penrith, who adds: “My vote would be for pretty Maulds Meaburn.”

Could this spark another wordy contest in our green and pleasant county?

And Askham might also have a claim to the imaginary title of Queen of Westmorland villages, especially in daffodil-time.

CELEBRATION MANIA

Sport seems to be dominated by celebrations these days, with goal-scorers in football matches knocked to the ground by enthusiastic team-mates and buried beneath masses of jubilant, ecstatic bodies.

The simple handshake or pat on the back, as a means of congratulation, are no longer adequate in professional sport. Lives could be lost in some of these exuberant, all-in canoodles.

Celebration fever has now spread to cricket, a game in which a batsman scoring a century once qualified for polite applause and a murmured “Well played, old chap”.

This trend is apparently deplored by the fuddy-duddy Cricket Society, whose latest journal carries a description of a century celebration, taken from a daily newspaper:

“Having completed his century, Pietersen galloped halfway towards Primrose Hill, indulged in some embarrassing courtship with the bride-to-be, and then adopted the pose with which Bruce Forsyth introduced The Generation Game, face contorted, knees braced, right fist clenched.

“When he returned to the other end he started waving his bat again, like a demented forester trying to hack his way through the jungle.”

The Kevin Pietersen celebration was staged at Lord’s in 2007. Will there by a copycat version on Penrith’s Tynefield Park or Appleby’s picture-postcard ground, alongside the River Eden, next season?