Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 53)

Jackdaws in church; trees are felled but some are saved; Jane is 19; “Wahini Pah”; Mr Southwell has a memorable excursion to Farley Mount; Chelsea Flower show again – and a little girl with painted finger-nails; Greaty has an accident,  and Gran receives a little act of kindness.

There is much activity at the Fowlers’ shop in Southampton, packing flowers for departing ships, at this time, and a strike by French seamen causes a degree of chaos because passengers for whom flowers had been ordered are transferred from the Ile de France, whose departure is delayed, to other ships the following day, and correctly uniting flowers with their recipients is difficult.  Gran delivers some of the arrangements to the United States, sailing on April 30^th, 1953, and writes:

After the delivery to the “United States” was completed, the steward gave some of our girls several baskets, bowls and such, which had crossed the Atlantic and were left on board by the recipients.  The flowers were mostly dead, but I rescued some very pretty ivy with slightly crinkled leaves, which showed signs of root and new growth, and this I planted in a container when I returned, hoping that it will grow.  It is most decorative.

She recounts a cause of amusement at Compton Church on May 3^rd:

…the sun streamed in at the East window, a benediction upon the bowed heads of the congregation.  One incident drew from me a half-stifled smile and a slight sense of guilt, though nobody within the Church could possibly have been unaware of it. During a moment of complete silence there was a sudden uproar in the Church roof as young Jackdaws were obviously being fed, and their noisy clamouring had to be heard to be believed! I thought they would never settle down again, but they did eventually.

There is more Jackdaw comment the following day, when Gran takes Cowslips, gathered by herself and Jane at Owslebury, to “my invalid friend” in Southampton.  “A Jackdaw”, she says:

was building its nest in the chimney of a house near Chandler’s Ford station.  I saw it fly with a large twig, and after dropping it down the chimney and peering in at it, the bird flew down as well.

She adds, “I came home through Eastleigh, since I had to get our new ration books”.

The mercury vapour moth trap is being run regularly in the garden of The Ridge, and also at Sparrow’s Hedge, throughout the Spring, both when Dad is at home and by Gran, for him when he is away.  On May 10^th, she records that Chocolate-tip is “new to the lamp, bringing the total number of species recorded in this garden to three-hundred and twenty-one”.

And there is a bird that would be new to Gran, had she been there, at Farley Mount the next day, seen by Jock and Barry – a Whinchat. As yet, although most of the usual summer migrant birds of the district have been recorded (including plenty of Cuckoos, but perhaps fewer Wood Warblers and Nightingales this year) Red-backed Shrike has not been noted in its usual Downland locations, and I wonder whether this year marks the beginning of the general decline in the more specialised birds the area.

Chandler’s Ford is certainly changing; the local woods are being cleared and, taking Julian for a long walk on the 12^th, Gran sadly notes:

Several Green Woodpeckers made themselves heard as I strolled along the woodland roads of this lovely district, still beautiful in places, though more built upon since the days when I pushed Barry in his pram along the same ways.

And a few days later she adds, that she walked home, with Jane, through the woodland roads:

…one of which has already lost much of its charm for me by today’s felling of my favourite Beech tree in all its vernal beauty, a tree which had for me happy associations with Barry’s babyhood.  How anyone can fell trees at this time of year I cannot imagine…

The 13^th is Jane’s 19^th birthday.  Gran arranges two bowls of flowers for her, and also decorates her cake, “iced entirely in white”, with wild flowers:

In a tiny cream-coloured pitcher, I put pink Thrift, lemon-yellow Alyssum, Forget-me-nots and Woodruff, with two sprays of dainty green foliage lying in front of it.  Rather unusual and very pretty.  Jock and Julian, and Jill Fowler came to tea with Jane, and Julian added Jill to his already innumerable admirers.

May 14^th sees Gran in Southampton early to prepare orders for the Fowlers, including one that she thought especially expensive, though wonderful, for the Queen Elizabeth, costing three guineas, and in the evening she babysits; Jock and Jane are in Southampton:

…to see the film of the Kon-Tiki Expedition and after Jock had fed Julian I brought him to the flat and put him to bed.  I am writing this now as he sleeps.  I have enjoyed looking after him and he has been very sweet.

On a day when Slow-worms have been noted in apparently active courtship in the garden, and Gran transplants treasured shrubs and other plants from a flowerbed, in preparation for the “pending rebuilding of our coal-cellar”, she spends most of the afternoon indoors:

Sunshine flickered intermittently during the afternoon but I did not go out.  Instead, I helped Jane spring-clean her Dolls’ House.  Not such a childish occupation as it sounds for “Wahini Pah” is not an ordinary doll’s house, but one of Jane’s treasured possessions, it having been made for her by her much loved Pa, (my Father) just before he died when she was five years old.

He designed it himself and much of the wood used for doors etc., is honeysuckle from New Zealand.  The staircase is of mahogany, over one hundred years old, which wood had belonged to his father.  All the main furniture is hand-made by two ladies from Southampton; beautifully upholstered settee and chairs and wooden beds, on which even the tiny pillowcases are embroidered.  The pictures are hand-painted watercolours, exquisite little views, perfect in every detail.  The whole thing is a masterpiece of craftsmanship.  I washed and ironed all the bed linen and curtains and helped to polish furniture and floors.

Gran leads a British Naturalists’ Association outing to Farley Mount and district on the afternoon of the 17^th, cycling there with her “young naturalist friend Maureen Toole”.  Only one other member attends – Mr Southwell, also on bicycle – and of the field trip, she enthuses, “though it proved to be anything but what I expected, it could hardly have been more interesting and exciting”.  She writes up the day in great detail, including the following highlights:

We scrambled down the side of Ashley Valley, pushing our bicycles through ankle-deep Dog’s Mercury…Treble-Lines moths flew up at almost every step.  We were fortunate to reach the Lilies-of-the-valley (Convallaria majalis) at the same time as the gypsies this year instead of after them, and so were able to also gather a few for ourselves.  Maureen was enchanted.

And further on, up the side of the valley:

…saw on the mossy bank a pair of leaves which I knew belonged to an Orchis…which I felt reasonably certain were the uncommon Fly Orchis (Ophrys muscifera), of which I once found a specimen here at Ashley some ten years ago and had not been able to find one since…and was overjoyed to find a perfectly wonderful specimen just beneath the low spreading branch of the yew, with the lowest flower fully open.  It was utterly beautiful and I cried aloud, “Oh you lovely thing!”  With close searching, we found twelve Orchids altogether in various stages of development and all in this little patch of about four square yards.

On the way down the road, Mr Southwell said he only needed to see the Stone Curlew to make his day perfect.  As we neared the entrance to the ploughed field in which my Brother saw them several weeks ago, Maureen and I, who were in the lead, startled a big bird…we hastily dropped our bicycles and went to investigate sweeping over and across the field with our binoculars.

They see a bird in the field but its cryptic plumage makes it hard to pick out but:

…through the binoculars there was no doubt.  It was a Stone Curlew!  We saw the light ring round its eyes – identification was complete and Mr Southwell was beside himself.  Oblivious to everything except our bird, I was suddenly aware of the impatient hooting of a motor-car, and realized that Maureen’s bicycle was lying right across the only way across the down.  I hastily removed the bicycle and apologised to the driver, who, with his passengers, no doubt thought us quite mad creeping about fields whilst leaving our bicycles all over the road!  Obviously they were not naturalists…

There is much more.  And at the end of the day:

I found a note from Barry asking me, if I was not too tired, to put on the moth lamp for a while. He had returned to his Air Force duties at Chippenham before I reached home.  I really was dead tired but how could I neglect such a request when he had been forced to return to a job which was not of his own choosing and which is such a waste of his abilities?  I tumbled into bed about eleven o’clock, too spent to write…

Imagine Gran’s delight at being given a ticket to Chelsea Flower Show by Bob Fowler! She spends a “truly delightful day” there on May 20^th, and writes up everything she sees, there, and on the coach journey, in more than twenty pages of her usual beautiful script.  Displays by Constance Spry, The British Teleflower Service, Interflora, Ian Walker, William Wood, J.C. Heal, Percy S. Cane, Winkfield Manor, Russell of Richmond and countless others are described in glowing detail.  At the end of the day, Gran can hardly stand, and she says:

…I was glad to rest awhile in the shade, watching the milling, cosmopolitan crowd surging to and fro.  Indian ladies in bright saris rubbed shoulders with smart Americans, whose broad accents left no doubt as to their nationality, and humble, ordinary folk like myself, hobnobbed with the gentry in beautiful well-cut clothes. Nature’s rugged features gazed at the flowers beside faces which their maker would fail to recognise, so much did they owe to the questionable art of makeup.  And for all their efforts they could not compete with the living flowers around them.

… we went across to the B.O.A.C. station for tea before catching the six o’clock coach for home.  Here we were amid the bustle of departing air passengers, some apparently facing their first flight, feeling important, excited and slightly apprehensive, others, seasoned travellers who had become blasé with familiarity.  Among the most self-assured was a small American girl of, perhaps, six years, whose finger-nails were varnished bright scarlet!

Gran rarely writes about the food provided for family meals – there is little doubt that it is traditional “meat and two veg”, with a substantial pudding, but eating alone at midday on May 25^th, we learn something of her own preferences. She records:

Being alone, I ate my dinner, (cheese and salad, with milk to drink and fruit to follow which I prefer to all else) in the garden, a book to read with it and time to enjoy it.

And another subject rarely covered in this journal is Gran’s mother, known to the younger generations as “Greaty”, and who also resides at The Ridge.  However, on May 27^th:

Early unexpected events gave me only time to read the thermometer before rushing to Southampton in a neighbour’s car, and, though not connected with Natural History, I think the kindness which met me and the humour which resulted from what could have been a much worse accident, are worth remembering.  Just before eight o’clock this morning my mother was cutting meat from a bone when it slipped and the jagged end cut her hand – a long deep gash in the palm.  She nearly fainted (she was seventy-six yesterday!) and I turned on the cold tap for her to hold her hand underneath, opened the window and supported her almost in one movement.  As soon as she was well enough to be left I ran to call Jane to help me pad the hand.  Whereupon, Jane, who had been in bed all day yesterday with, apparently, sunstroke, promptly fainted.

After getting her back to bed I went to phone the Doctor who told me what to do, and asked me to take Mother in to him.  I went next door to my neighbour, who had told me to go in if I ever needed a car, and asked if he could take us to Southampton when he went in.  In spite of the fact that he was not going in his car this morning, he did indeed take us, timing our leaving so that he could intercept the friend who had been going to pick him up and tell him to go on.  So much for the kindness!

Now the humourous side.  I had put extra money into my handbag in case I had to bring Mother home in a taxi and then found, when half way to Southampton, that I had left the handbag at home in my anxiety to see that Jane was well enough to be left alone, locking up etc., and helping Mother into the car.  After the Doctor had dressed the cut and strapped up the hand I asked him if Mother would be alright to go home in the ‘bus.  When he said “yes”, I realized we had no money between us, so I asked him to lend me two shillings.  He left the surgery and returned with half-a-crown, saying, “Here’s two and six.  Buy yourselves some sweets on the way home”.

We found Jane recovered and no serious damage had been done to the hand. So we could find much for which to be grateful and a great deal over which to smile!

And there is more thoughtfulness to come that day, because, Gran writes:

I found on arrival also, that the postman had been, in our absence, and Mrs Durst had sent me a copy of “The Hound of Heaven”, by Frances Thompson, and had graciously written in the front, “Dear Joan, with the love of her friend, Muriel B. Durst.  Whitsuntide 1953”.  How these little acts of kindness warm the aching heart, do they not?

Article series

• Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 1)
• Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 2)
• Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 3)
• Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 4)
• Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 5)
• Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 6)
• Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 7)
• Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 8)
• Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 9)
• Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 10)
• Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 11)
• Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 12)
• Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 13)
• Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 14)
• Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 15)
• Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 16)
• Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 17)
• Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 18)
• Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 19)
• Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 20)
• Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 21)
• Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 22)
• Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 23)
• Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 24)
• Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 25)
• Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 26)
• Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 27)
• Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 28)
• Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 29)
• Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 30)
• Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 31)
• Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 32)
• Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 33)
• Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 34)
• Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 35)
• Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 36)
• Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 37)
• Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 38)
• Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 39)
• Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 40)
• Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 41)
• Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 42)
• Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 43)
• Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 44)
• Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 45)
• Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 46)
• Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 47)
• Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 48)
• Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 49)
• Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 50)
• Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 51)
• Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 52)
• Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 53)