The following wee gem of a story was published in the Glasgow Herald on April 3rd 1911 (p.9), the day after the recording of the decennial census. I have no idea who the author was, other than the initials R. K. R. at the bottom, but thought it worth sharing! You can find the original online at http://news.google.com/newspapers?nid=GGgVawPscysC&dat=19110403&printsec=frontpage&hl=en
The Child studied the census paper attentively for a moment, wrinkling her brows over it.
"What an awful lot of writing there is on it. And on all the back of it too, " she added, turning the sheet over.
"Yes, isn't there?"
"Have you read all the writing on the back?"
"Well, perhaps not every word."
"Why have you not read every word?"
"Well, you see, it's Sunday, and it's not right to work too hard on Sunday."
"Who makes you do it on Sunday?"
"Who makes you do it on Sunday? I suppose it must be Mr J. Patten Macdougall, Registrar-General. You'll see his name on the back."
The Child checked this statement carefully.
"Wasn't it kind of Mr Macdougall to send you all this writing?"
"It was indeed. He is goodness itself."
"Does he send them to many people?"
"Yes. A good many."
"Will Amy Douglas's father get one?"
"Ad Mrs McClintock the washerwoman?"
"I think so."
"And will she have to write down all her children?" (Breathlessly) "She has ten-living-and-two-dead."
"Yes. Every one. What did you say cook's name was?"
"Just cook or Margaret. What a lot of numbers all down the side. 1, 2 , 3, 4, 5-10-17, 18, 19, 20. Are these for putting children in?"
"Yes, children and people."
"What would you do if you had more than twenty children?"
"I would whip them all soundly and put them to bed."
"No, but really and truly?"
"I would have to get another paper from Mr. J. Patten McDougall."
The Child studied some entries on the paper. Then she laughed.
"You're a silly to put mother 32. Mother has always been 21, ever since she was married."
"Of course. I must correct that."
"And you've missed Sandy out altogether."
"Tut-tut. We mustn't miss out Sandy. You'll help me to write him down."
"Of course I'll help you. Write Sandy Rutherford."
"No middle name?"
"Sandy Woggins Rutherford."
"Right. Alexander W. Rutherford. What next?"
"I'm afraid that wouldn't do. It must be Head, or Wife, or Son, or Daughter, Relative, Visitor, Boarder, or Servant. He's more than a visitor."
"Of course he is. He's my own always doggie."
"Well, we'll call him a Boarder. So that's all right. Age - three last birthday." Gaelic and English - "Both I should think. Particulars as to Marriage - Single."
"Yes, he's my own single dog." (Looking closely at the paper.) "Per-son-al Occ-u-p-a-t-i-o-n. What does that mean?"
"It means what does he do for a living?"
"He barks a good deal!" the Child said, doubtfully. And he eats a lot of bones - and watches the house."
"Good. We'll put him down as night watchman."
"Of course," said the Child impartially, "he's really and truly asleep at night."
"We needn't tell anybody that. Then he's a Worker, isn't he? Worker at Home will be right. Birthplace?"
"Island of Skye," said the Child promptly. "What is this last thing, Infir-mitty?"
"That means any weakness he has."
"Mother says he has a weakness for butter."
"That'll do then. Infirmity. Steals the butter. That finishes Sandy."
"Couldn't we put my own dear Dicky-Bird in?"
"I'm afraid not. Mr J. Patten Macdougall mightn't like it. He may not care about canaries."
"I am sure he would love my canary, if he knew it. But it won't mind if you don't put its name in as much as Sandy would."
"No, and you don't need to tell it. Are you going to tell Sandy?"
"Tell Sandy! Sandy knows already. He's been watching us all the time."
R. K. R.
The moral of the story - is everyone that you find on the census quite who you think they are?!!!