Brenda Willison, Newmarket's town crier, took two Guinness records with one oyez

On 9 September, in Fordham, Brenda Willison rang her bell, filled her lungs and shouted one word: “Oyez.” The meter read 105.9 decibels. Guinness World Records says that is about as loud as standing next to a snowblower or a blasting car horn.

It earned Willison, the town crier of Newmarket in Suffolk, two Guinness titles: loudest shout by an individual (female) and loudest town crier (female). The adjudicator, Emma Salt, presented the records. Willison thought she could do better.

“I believe I wasn’t at my best today because I’m full of cold and I’m sure I’ll be able to get louder.” — Brenda Willison, to Guinness World Records

A letter about chips

Willison has been a town crier since 1987. Before that she was a catering manager at a country park in Peterborough, where her family lived, running two cafés about a mile and a half apart. Her school reports, Guinness notes, had said she was loud in class.

“The Peterborough paper put an advert out to say ‘could you be town crier of Peterborough?’” — Brenda Willison

Her daughter, who helped at the park, wrote in without telling her. The letter said her mother could be heard shouting “chips” from one café to the other. That got her the job.

Nearly four decades on, her list of cries runs from Buckingham Palace, for the Queen Mother’s 100th birthday, Queen Elizabeth II’s 90th and the Platinum Jubilee, to the bridge over the River Kwai, where in 1995 she made a cry for peace to mark 50 years of peace.

Not a man’s job

Willison is firm that the role is not a man’s.

“As a town crier, a lot of people think it’s got to be a man. No it’s not.” — Brenda Willison

What matters, she said, is a voice that is clear and loud, pronounces words properly and can hold its volume. “I think ladies have an advantage because their voices are a lot more musical and much clearer,” she added. When Salt borrowed her hat and bell for a lesson and shouted her own oyez, Willison’s verdict was: “Actually, I don’t think you need any lessons.”

Why this matters

Town criers are older than newspapers. “Oyez” is Anglo-Norman, from the old French verb ouïr, “to hear”, Country Life explains; criers rang a bell, called for attention and read out the news, and were protected by law because the news was not always welcome. Today they open fêtes, support charity events and announce royal births.

The craft is alive. The Ancient & Honourable Guild of Town Criers represents more than 170 official criers in the UK and overseas, works with guilds in Canada, Australia and the US, and runs a season of competitions each summer as well as an annual championship.

What Willison describes, a voice that is clear, carries and lasts, is the same thing a choir, a lectern or a busy meeting asks for. It is also a voice that has to be looked after. The British Voice Association’s advice is plain: warm up before long use, drink water, do not shout over noise at social or sports events, rest rather than whisper when your voice is going, and see a doctor if it sounds different for more than two weeks.

How to start

If you would like to use your voice more, start where it is already welcome. A choir is the easiest door: our list has Rock Choir and singing lessons, and our guide to learning an instrument covers the habit of weekly practice. Reading to a group, compering a club night or making the announcements at a local event all train the same muscles.

If the crier’s role itself appeals, it starts with your town. The Guild’s advice for finding a crier is to ask the local town council, and posts do come up: Willison’s was advertised in the local paper. Go and watch a Guild competition first, and listen to what the judges reward. Our guide to volunteering has more ways to be the voice of your community.

Willison, meanwhile, plans to hang the certificates in her house, and thinks she can get louder.