Welcome to the Rudloe and environs website.


Here you will find news, articles and photos of an area that straddles the Cotswold Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty in north-west Wiltshire.


Contributions in the form of articles or photos are welcome. Even those with completely contrary views to mine!


Thanks to the website builder 1&1 and Rob Brown for the original idea.


Rudloescene now, in January 2014, has a sister, academic rather than anarchic, website about Box history here: http://www.boxpeopleandplaces.co.uk/

It contains thoroughly professional, well-researched articles about Box and its people.


Contact rudloescene through the 'Contact' page.


The title photos show Carter's steam fair at Victoria Park, images from Bill Smarme's 'farewell' gigs at the Queen's Head in Box and the Bell in Walcot Street, Bath (7th October 2018 and 9th December 2018 respectively) and a photo of Janet and Jessica taking part in the centenary celebration of the 1913 suffragist march from Lands End to London.

24th December 2023 brings a Christmas (Eve) story composed by a friend for his creative writing group...



Dorothy Jenkins, in her wee house,

Kept to herself, she was quiet as a mouse.

She stayed at home and never went out,

There was sure to be someone else about,

And she didn’t like people, so she lived alone.

She had an ex-directory telephone,

To order her groceries that came each week,

Delivered by Fred. Even they didn’t speak.

But she did have friends for whom she cared:

The spiders, with whom she gladly shared

Her little house. She knew all their names,

There was Bill, and Paul, Mary and James…

I won’t list them all, there were far to many,

Except her favourite, who was called Benny.

He lived in her bedroom, on the ceiling.

For him, she had a special feeling.

At night, he’d drop, on his silken thread,

Onto her pillow, next to her head.

“Hello Benny,” she would say,

“I hope you’ve had a lovely day.”

Of course, the spiders, they liked dust.

She never swept it up, she just

Let it settle, let it drop,

On carpet, shelves and table top.

And of cobwebs, there were many;

Some of them were made by Benny.

From ceiling, shelves and walls they hung

Across the corners some were slung.

A few were draped upon the chairs.

And from the hall, right up the stairs

They reached the landing, and the loo,

And, of course, her bedroom, too.

A loving look at them she’d give,

They were so very decorative.

Then, one day, as Dorothy

Poured herself a cup of tea,

The doorbell rang. Who could that be?

It was not her day for a delivery.

It rang, and rang, and rang again.

She crept up to the window pane,

And surreptitiously she peered

And saw a young man with a beard.

This time he knocked upon the door

Then he rang the bell once more.

“Auntie Dorothy,” he yelled.

In his hand pink flowers he held.

“Auntie Dorothy?” she thought,

Her horrid sister must have brought

A son into this world. Would he

Be cruel, like her? She would see.

Her curiosity had won.

What was he like, her sister’s son?

She opened the door, just a bit,

And peeked at him through the narrow slit.

“Oh Auntie Dot,” said the man,

“I’m your nephew, my name is Dan.

Some flowers for you, I have brought,

They’re from our garden, not shop bought.”

Watched by George, her guardian spider

She opened the door a little wider,

And very cautiously she took

The bunch of flowers, then she shook

Her nephew’s hand. He gave a smile.

“Oh I have come for many a mile,”

He said, “so please, please won’t you come

With me, and say hello to mum?

She very grudgingly agreed

So off they went at quite a speed

And soon they reached her sister’s home.

In her front garden was a gnome.

The door opened and out she came

Joan, that was her sister’s name,

Said “Dorothy, oh do come in.”

She gave a smile, both mean and thin

Just like it was when just a child.

The chance of being reconciled,

Thought Dorothy, it was not good.

She’d make an effort, if she could

To forgive the misdemeanour

That could not have been any meaner,

When Joan had broken her favourite dolly,

A woollen spider she called Polly.

She’d torn off all its legs, and then

Stabbed its body with a pen.

She stayed a week, but they hardly spoke.

Joan’s husband was a nicer bloke.

Always kind, and meek and mild,

Obeyed Joan’s orders, never got riled.

Dan, meanwhile, had gone away.

He’d return next Saturday

To take her home. How glad she’d be

To see her friends, her family.

At last, they stopped outside her door

She was home! But just before

Getting out of Dan’s car, he turned and said…

Her heart began to fill with dread…

“A little surprise I have for you.”

To her door she almost flew.

She flung it open, and there she saw

It was all spick and span, even the floor.

The cobwebs were gone, not a speck of dust

“Oh thank you, Dan,” she said, “that is just…”

But she couldn’t finish, she was crying inside,

Although her tears she managed to hide.

She smiled at him, “You’re such a kind man.”

She kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Dan.”

But when he had gone, driven away,

She began to weep. On her bed she lay,

“Oh Benny,” she sobbed, “Oh Bill, Oh James.”

She called out every one of their names.

But none of them came, they’d all gone away.

She was more unhappy than I can possibly say.

And as the days went by, it got worse and worse.

It felt like she was under some terrible curse.

She should have known what would happen, she should have been wise

Suddenly the house became full of flies.

They were horrible, horrible nasty things,

Buzzing around, vibrating their wings.

She tried her best to shoo them out,

But it seemed there became even more about.

It went on for weeks, they were driving her mad.

But then, oh joy, oh how she was glad.

A cobweb appeared, and then more and more,

Almost as many as there’d been before.

The spiders were back, trapping the flies,

Eating them up, no matter what size.

In living room, kitchen, bedroom and hall,

All the spiders were having a ball.

Until no more flies did she ever see.

She and the spiders would live happily

For ever after. And then, in bed,

A spider dropped down beside her head

“Oh Benny, oh Benny, you’re back,” she said.


Pete Isaacs 27th November 2023

An eral draws to a close on 9th December 2018 as Ten Fingers folds up the stand for the final time at Bill Smarme and the Bizness's's farewell gig at the Bell, Walcot Street 

We thought we would hop down to the Bell in Walcot Street for Bill Smarme's and the Bizness's's final farewell on Sunday 9th December 2018
Quite a crowd in for this final gig and the end of an eral - Bill and the Bizness can just be seen through the gap at centre-left
Bill and his daughter with Rich after the curtain has come down on thirty years of performing around the West Country - truly the end of an eral

Bill Smarme and the Bizness featuring Ten Fingers, One Drum and Cactus Suzie - Bill Smarme's farewell concert at the Queen's Head, Box on 6th October 2018

Tis the end of an eral. After three decades on the road Bill Smarme, Cactus Suzie, Ten Fingers and One Drum are finally calling it a day. The Twerton combo will be heard at the Queens no more.

Bill Smarme and the Bizness with an enraptured audience at the Queen's Head on 6th October 2018
Yer's a wider view of that enraptured audience
Queen's landlords and music gurus Dean and Mrs Dean (?) with mixing decks and other paraphernalia
The gurus hard at work on the analogue and digital mixing decks (actually I have no idea what I'm talking about - I guess that's what is going on)
A high degree of concentration required here from the gurus
Oh mate ... a pitch invasion by a trio of Aussie good-time sheilas resulted in a loss of service (disconnected plug)

24th August 2018 - an early 1990s cultural tour of three pubs, including the Two Pigs, looking for keg beer

9th January 2016 - Bill Smarme and the Bizness and Rawhide with kazoos at The Bell, Walcot Street, Bath on 13th December 2015 - mates, real ale, comedy and Bill Smarme - English culture at its finest

Carter's Steam Fair, Victoria Park, 18th & 19th July 2015. What a fabulously English, 50s and 60s musicy, fairground organy, steamy, candyflossy, doughnuty show. I go principally for the sounds and smells but the grandkids love it and we spent a fortune. Actually we all (six of us) really enjoyed the airplane ride - the nine- and six-year-olds delighted in being able to control the height of the planes

Well it's springtime in the mountains and I'm full of mountain dew

Can't even read my catalogue like I used to do


23rd May 2015 - Gwyneth Herbert - part of the Bath International Music Festival. The rugby was good but Gwyneth was better - what a performer!

Bath Music Festival's 'Party in the City' night on 15th May 2015. Excuses, etc ... but all photos at St Michael's were taken from towards the back of the church, heavily zoomed and with no flash, hence their 'fuzziness'.

And on the way to the 'Party' I loved this poster in a London Road shop window

Bill Smarme and The Bizness


A new menu item (Art & Culture) has been brought about by a visit to The Queen’s Head in Box.


Hadn’t really appreciated culture til we chanced upon Bill Smarme and The Bizness at The Queen’s Head on St David’s Day 2014. And this wasn’t just any culture, it was and is our culture – we, West Country, Somersetshire, Wiltshire (but not Devonshire) folk.


You can keep your £100s tickets for top acts at Colstnall, Glaastonbury, the O2 Arenal etc – ethnic Twerton (apparently) musicianship at its finest and comedic art were just a short hop away down Box Hill.


Bill's Facebook page

Print | Sitemap
© Paul Turner