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SHAKE HAND DAY

Until its closure the weekly cattle market was held in Bridport on a Wednesday and was called by many ‘Shake-hand Day’.

The reason was obvious for the pavement outside the Greyhound Hotel - open till four p.m. ‘For the Sale of Liquor’ - was thick with farmers and other country folk on their weekly visit to town.

And shake hands they did, with their corn merchant, machinery dealer, the person they last saw the previous market day and with their neighbour, even if they’d only met him over a gate the day before.

Just inside the entrance of the Greyhound was a black painted letter box set in the wall. It bore the legend in gold letters ‘Corn Returns’ and was part of market day business of years gone by.

Like this collection box the custom of shaking hands has gone too, along with the gesture of standing when others enter a room or offering one’s seat to a lady (Womens Lib?). And raising one’s hat to a lady. Well there’s a shortage of hats and perhaps Ladies too!!

It was drummed into me that one should raise one’s hat to one’s elders and betters (sic) and especially to the ladies but, whilst the older ones expect it and middle-aged ladies appreciate it, the young seem to think it quaint and are not sure if anything’s expected in return!

It is regrettable that these two gestures, the marks of good manners, have largely disappeared and their going has left life that much poorer in quality.

It is true that touching one’s cap was a mark of servility and as such was to be deplored but it was also a means of showing respect and nowadays one rarely sees a man doffing his hat - if he’s wearing one - when a funeral passes in the street.

As for shaking hands, modern life has made that almost impossible too. If you shook hands outside the Greyhound on market day you knew that the matter was settled, that you were both committed, but today you are quite likely to find that the bill was more than you’d expected for some reason or other and you can do nothing about it. If you’d shaken hands on it, it would not have happened but how could you? He was on the other end of a telephone.

Perhaps all is not yet lost. Recently after a weekend of toothache, the dentist said that if I cared to wait he’d fit me in. The waiting room was full with standing room only.
A boy of about ten years old was sitting next to his Mother who, when she saw me standing, gave her son a dig in the ribs and he got up and offered me his seat.

I must be getting old but this act was appreciated, as much as for the thought as for my own comfort. After a while my toothache disappeared and I gave the seat back to the boy but the incident was a refreshing show of courtesy which we are told no longer exists.