2. Some history In my guidebook, I have described how I became, almost The Art of Writing Fiction, inadvertently, an oral historian: Some time in the mid-80s, as I was chaining my bicycle to the railings outside Norwich City Hall, I got into a conversation with another cyclist, a trim, pugilistic-looking fellow who a charity bike told me he’d recently completed ride of almost 900 miles that had taken him less than four weeks. He was nearly eighty years old. His name was Snowy Fulcher, and he was, he said, a and He had trained as a junior boxer in the ‘lifelong health fitness fanatic’. back room of a pub during the First World War, and the lessons had cost his father a shilling and sixpence. On Friday nights a ring would be roped off in the bar for competitive bouts against the boxers of other pubs, and Snowy had won back his first time out. Later learned father’s investment, he’d gymnastics in a organised by the to keep boys’ club city’s chief constable hooligans like himself, he said, away from the pubs. (Cowan 2011a: 101) Snowy told me a lot more besides, not just that afternoon but over the following two years, during which time I visited him regularly to listen to his recollections of a city that persisted mainly in the memory of people like him. He described the cattle market in the centre of Norwich (then a car park, soon to become a shopping mall) and how he would earn pennies - helping to herd the animals in from the countryside. ‘bullock whopping’
2. Some history In my guidebook, The Art of Writing Fiction, I have described how I became, almost inadvertently, an oral historian: Some time in the mid-80s, as I was chaining my bicycle to the railings outside Norwich City Hall, I got into a conversation with another cyclist, a trim, pugilistic-looking fellow who told me he’d recently completed a charity bike ride of almost 900 miles that had taken him less than four weeks. He was nearly eighty years old. His name was Snowy Fulcher, and he was, he said, a ‘lifelong health and fitness fanatic’. He had trained as a junior boxer in the back room of a pub during the First World War, and the lessons had cost his father a shilling and sixpence. On Friday nights a ring would be roped off in the bar for competitive bouts against the boxers of other pubs, and Snowy had won back his father’s investment, first time out. Later he’d learned gymnastics in a boys’ club organised by the city’s chief constable to keep hooligans like himself, he said, away from the pubs. (Cowan 2011a: 101) Snowy told me a lot more besides, not just that afternoon but over the following two years, during which time I visited him regularly to listen to his recollections of a city that persisted mainly in the memory of people like him. He described the cattle market in the centre of Norwich (then a car park, soon to become a shopping mall) and how he would earn pennies ‘bullock whopping’ - helping to herd the animals in from the countryside.
history_FINAL.docx