There are eleven steps leading from Mill Street to the entrance to St Mary’s churchyard. They are known as Proclamation Steps, with a blue plaque on the front of one of the houses, which is named Proclamation House.

As a central position within Calne, these steps were the place, by tradition, that royal declarations and other important statements were announced. In those days many townspeople could not read or write. It was the news flash of the times.

The Town Crier stood on Proclamation Steps and made these important royal or religious announcements. They were someone with a very strong, loud voice, getting the attention of people all around by beginning with the words “O yay, o yay”. We still have the Town Crier competition today and a Town Crier. Listen out for it!

In Elizabethan and Jacobean times, the first reading of the proclamations happened after the beat of the town drum on these steps, then, the second reading took place from the town bridge and the third, at the centre of the town square.

In more recent times, in May 1910, Mayor Henly proclaimed the death of King Edward VII on these steps and in January 1936 Mayor Cooper declared the accession of King Edward VIII to the throne.

The steps are still used today for proclamations, read by our current Town Crier, however there is usually a mix of important news with more humorous anecdotes.

The dim glow of the morning light hits my eyelids, stirring me from my slumber. Slowly rising from the bed, I walk to the window, it’s overcast again. “Oh well,” I think to myself. The thing people always notice about me is that the weather has never bothered me. Rain, snow, or blinding sun, nothing stops me from doing my job.

As I walk around my home I count the steps in my head. From bed to the bathroom, twenty steps. From the bathroom to the kitchen, thirty-three. From the kitchen to the front door, twelve. Everything in my life can be measured in steps, in a way they keep me grounded. Steps help me know where I am supposed to be headed in life.

My favourite number of steps is eleven, closely followed by the one-hundred-and-thirteen steps it takes to transport me to the special eleven. Eleven steps hold a precious, enduring place in my heart. I have walked to these special eleven steps every day for my entire adult life. Whatever the weather, whatever I’ve been going through, I go to these steps no matter what. I have laughed and cried on these steps. I have rejoiced and mourned on them too. They are the one true constant in my life.

I don’t expect you to understand the importance of these eleven pieces of stone, and I would never judge you for not getting it, after all, it isn’t the life you’ve lived, we are from different times. Just let me try to explain it. These steps are a cornerstone of the town that I live in, and I, as the Calne town crier, play an integral role in that foundation. When there is important news to be broadcast, that responsibility falls squarely on my shoulders. The people of the town rely on me to keep them up to date with everything that is happening beyond the walls of our community. This job makes me feel important.

The app you're using to listen to this story is today. In my day it was Proclamation steps.

Written and read by Violet.
The ringing of the bells resonated through the streets. Children whizzed by eager to hear the news for today.

The street corner was packed but risen above was a head with a scroll blocking its view. You heard the yell of “O yay, o yay,” and silence fell, no one wanted to miss what was to come next. The wind whistled and the silence was broken.
“As of May 6th 1910, King Edward VII is proclaimed dead.”

The silence that followed could kill. No one in attendance had expected the rumours to be true. Then amidst the silence there was the chirp of a bird and the wailing of a baby.

The man began again, “He died in Buckingham Palace, London. The cause of death was determined a heart attack.”

Then again, silence. Even the wailing baby was silent.

Then talking, only whispers at first, but then it grew louder and louder till even the neighbouring villages would be able to hear the people conversing.
You could hear the worried Mothers and Grandparents “But who will take the throne.” “Oh, he was so young, only 68.”

You couldn’t hear the rest of the announcements the talking was so loud.
Then slowly the talking died down, not because people were stopping talking but because people were slowly filtering away until there were only a few mothers left.

I stood there all day, not moving, but neither did the mothers until the children began wailing and they went to collect food.

I stayed by that window, staring at those stairs. The announcements were done and people were back to their daily lives. Those stairs a vague memory forgotten and only when something important is to be announced will those stairs entice the town to its story telling.

Back again people will float but until then those stairs will stay forgotten. Only when tragedy falls or victory is brought will those stairs be used.

Until then I will stare at those stairs and they will stare back. Neither of us moving as I have all the time in the world on the other side of this window.