A Canterbury Tale Page #9

- Three years.

- A long time.

His father was the trouble.

- Did you ever meet each other?

- Oh, yes.

We didn't dislike each other.

They were a very good family...

and he thought his son should marry

someone better than a shopgirl.

"Good family." "Shopgirl."

Rather dilapidated phrases

for wartime.

Not for Geoffrey's father.

It would have taken an earthquake.

We're having one.

Too late for me.

- There are a lot of funny things in the world.

- What, for instance?

For instance, why should people

who love the country have to live in big cities?

Something's wrong.

Miracles still happen, you know.

Do you believe in miracles?

When I was your age, I didn't believe

in anything. Now I believe in miracles.

- For shopgirls?

- For everybody.

You know, I think a shopgirl has

a bigger chance of a miracle than a millionaire.

- I can see you've never been a shopgirl.

- Nor a millionaire.

See those clouds forming?

It'll be a warm day tomorrow.

Tomorrow I've got to go into Canterbury,

to the Agricultural Committee.

- I shall visit my property.

- You've property in Canterbury?

My caravan. It's jacked up there in a garage.

I pay half a crown a week for it.

Quite a lot

for a jacked-up caravan.

Not for my caravan.

Shall you bring it here?

I hope so.

Pilgrims to Canterbury

often receive blessings.

Do you think even a visit

to the Agricultural Committee...

could be

the instrument of a blessing?

Who knows? If not,

I might have a word with them.

Yes, sir,

I was born with an open mind.

- And mouth.

- And mouth, as you remark.

But it sure is a surprise to me to find

how much I like everything over here.

- Must they see us?

- Everything, I may add, but one thing.

- What's that?

- Not if you keep low.

Why do you, from sunrise to sunset,

and at odd hours throughout the night...

have to drink tea?

- I shouldn't be too noisy about it if I were you.

- But I hate the stuff.

Well, after Pearl Harbor you Americans

joined the honorable company of tea drinkers.

Don't forget that the Nazis and Japs have

knocked down every country they've tried to,

except the tea drinkers -

China, Russia and England.

So, long live drinking tea.

Drinking tea doesn't appear

to be much good for the wind.

If anybody'd made me walk three miles

before the war and then climb a hill...

I'd say he could bury me at the top.

- I thought organists, as a race, were climbers.

- Of what?

- Church towers.

- I use a lift.

Boy! Cast your eye

around that noble prospect!

Wasn't it worth the climb?

Nearly.

Of course, I freely admit...

it's nothing to compare with the view

from Three Sisters Mountains.

Now, don't start to tell me that

you've got higher hills and broader rivers.

- I don't see any river.

- There.

- That's the River Stour.

- That?

- It goes to Canterbury.

- Going to Canterbury is no proof it's a river.

I'm going to Canterbury,

and I ain't no river.

Well, I'll admit it's no Mississippi.

And I'll admit

I've never seen the Mississippi.

Then be happy to tell your folks

you've seen the River Stour...

and English blackberries.

I am happy.

Ours are bigger than these.

I feel fine.

The whole time, ever since we sailed,

something's been wrong with me.

Maybe it was my girl.

Maybe I was homesick.

Now, for the first time,

I feel swell.

Maybe it was because my mind

was preoccupied.

In the army, they think mostly

about keeping your body occupied.

They've not much time

to worry about your mind.

No.

The air here

is as good as Hyde Park.

Hyde Park?

That's in London?

Very much in London.

What would you be doing this afternoon

in London, if there wasn't any war?

Sunday afternoon?

Reading, playing cards with the boys,

waiting for the pubs to open...

occupying the mind,

letting the body take care of itself.

You don't fancy

the countryside much, do you?

Tell you the truth, I'd hardly realized

there was a countryside before the war.

Funny that -

how the war can open

your eyes to a lot of things.

That sounds like

the Glue Man's lecture.

Take me, for instance.

I was no G-man before the war.

Imagine me, Bob Johnson

of Johnson County, Oregon...

coming over here

and solving the Glue Man mystery.

While you're throwing bouquets

at yourself, don't forget me and Alison.

The nutty thing

about it is, I like him.

- Who?

- Old Gluepeper.

He's a bit cracked, but I like him too.

- Come on, Pete. I'll race you down.

- You're on.

Chillingbourne! Chillingbourne!

Canterbury, next stop!

Next stop, Canterbury!

Well, it's just as well he knows.

He didn't deny it, did he?

- Didn't say a word.

- No, he wouldn't. Are you going to tell the police?

Certainly. He's called the tune.

Now he's got to pay the piper.

- Say, what's the holdup, George?

- Mr. Colpeper's a bit late.

Did you get that? Well, how do you know

he's going to Canterbury?

It's Monday.

His day on the bench.

- On the bench? Hello, pop.

- Hello, sonny boy.

- Bench of magistrates.

- The district law court.

- Good morning, Mr. Duckett.

- Morning, miss.

I warned you to keep an eye on her Friday night.

Oh, here he comes.

Here you are, Mr. Colpeper.

Thanks, Duckett.

Thank goodness

he didn't come in here.

Good morning. You don't mind my sitting with you.

It's only 10 minutes to Canterbury.

- There's plenty of room.

- You bet.

I'm glad to meet you all together.

You, I suppose, are on your way

to rejoin your unit, Sergeant Johnson.

Yes, sir.

And you're off to

the Agricultural Committee.

And you're going to sit on the bench.

- And you, Sergeant Gibbs?

- I'm going to the police station.

I see.

An excellent police force,

the Kent constabulary.

They solve every crime

sooner or later.

- Do you think the Glue Man knew that?

- He knew it all right.

- But he didn't think what he did was a crime.

- What else can you call it?

Upsetting the whole village,

giving the soldiers a bad name with everyone.

Some children hate going to school.

Their parents have to force them to go.

Is that a crime?

- Pouring glue on girls' hair is.

- It's awful to get out.

You're not going to defend

pouring glue on people?

Certainly not.

But I'm going to defend pouring knowledge

into people's heads, by force if necessary.

- What knowledge?

- Knowledge of our country and love of its beauty.

Beauty of the countryside!

Who cares about these things in wartime?

Who cares about them in peacetime?

I've tried it before this war.

Why should it be any better after it?

I've written articles that didn't

get further than the county papers.

I rented a hall in London to speak from,

but nobody came to listen.

I even held a meeting in Hyde Park.

- That's no subject for Hyde Park.

- I found that out.

Then the war came,

and just as I was thinking, like you...

that all the things I'd been preaching about

would have to wait until peacetime...

a miracle happened.

That's the trouble.

You believe in miracles.

Yes, I do.

The miracle was that the army decided

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