Chandler's Ford Today

Main navigation

You are here: Home / Community / Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 55)

Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 55)

By Leave a Comment

Mouse, Man and other traps; “getting your eye in”; John Keble and the Oxford Movement; Crossbills in Merdon Avenue; times have changed with regard to children’s entertainment; accents; two tennis stars on the Mauritania; Bog Orchid at last!; and Jane’s school days are over.

On July 7th 1953, Gran travels to Earley, near Reading where Adrian’s mother is staying with her sister at the house called “Anathoth”. On the 8th, they visit the neighbouring towns of Goring and Streatley, separated by the River Thames, travelling by bus, via Pangbourne, and Gran is amused, “at a small village whose name I could not see”, where:

…the driver of the ‘bus leant out in passing and accurately threw a parcel of newspapers right into the doorway of a shop.  Obviously it was not the first time he had done this!

They make their way to a local beauty spot known as Lardon Chase, owned by the National Trust, and she notes many familiar chalk downland plant species there.  She can’t have known it at the time, but she was very close to one of the very few Monkey Orchid colonies in Britain, and it would be some twenty years later, on a return journey there, that she adds this lovely plant to her list.  She does, however, get Red-backed Shrike onto her year list, even if she cannot find the species in her own county this year.

It will be some twenty years before Gran sees her first Monkey Orchid. Image by Natural England via Flickr.

They visit the Rural England Museum of Reading University next day.  It is not yet open to the public, but they are shown around by “a charming young lady who was in charge of it”.  There Gran notes:

…all manner of ancient farm implements and domestic utensils of bygone days, including brasses, pewter ware, cow and sheep-bells, wooden and metal ladles, old-world threshers, wringers, kegs in which wine was taken to the harvest fields, wooden crooks and pitchforks, mouse, man and other traps and all manner of things that were familiar objects about the farms and homes of our ancestors.

In the evening, we went in next door to see an aged couple whom I met when at Anathoth two years ago and saw something which neither Barry nor I had ever seen before.  A young Cuckoo actually being fed by its foster-parents – in this case, Hedge Accentors.

Joan Adelaide Goater - her journal about Chandler's Ford.

Home again at Chandler’s Ford a few days later, Gran and Jane, on a Wintergreen-saving expedition to the oakwood, note a Pine Hawk-moth at rest on a Pine tree:

Jane said to me. “I wonder how many other people have seen it!  Perhaps only Barry.”  When we reached home, Barry, who had dashed to the flat for something for Julian, said to me, “Did you see the Pine Hawk?”  Queer how these things shout at us though they escape notice from so many!

Pine Hawks – they are well camouflaged against bark – but if you “get your eye in” they will “shout at you”.  Image by Vlad Prokiov via Flickr.

On July 13th:

As I went to work this afternoon I was delighted to see a White Admiral butterfly in Hiltingbury Road, the first I have seen in this neighbourhood for some time, though they were fairly well established here when we first came, twenty-five years ago, but they have been decreasing for years.

“This evening”, Gran records on the 14th:

…I went to Hursley Church for Evensong, which was choral, and to hear a sermon preached by the Rev. Dr C.B.Moss, in commemoration of the 120th anniversary of the preaching, by John Keble, of his famous sermon before the Judges of Assize assembled at Oxford, which marked the beginning of the Oxford Movement.  Keble was then a brilliant young man who had already published his “Christian Year”, and was Fellow of Oriel College and Professor of Poetry at the University of Oxford.  In 1835, John Keble became Vicar of Hursley, where he remained until his death in 1866.

With an hour to spare between her arrival at the church and the start of the service, she investigates the nearby lanes, the building itself and some of the documents there, and that evening, writes copious notes about her findings, including that the Parish Register, dating from 1599, contains the entry of Richard Cromwell’s marriage to Dorothy Major, on May 1st 1649.  And she adds:

I went some way up the Braishfield Road, where, in a beechwood, I found Broad-leaved Helleborine (Epipactis latifolia) in bud and the remains of White Helleborine (Cephalanthera latifolia) and Bird’s-nest Orchis (Neottia nidus-avis).  I saw the latter from the road and felt sure of its identity so decided not to investigate more closely.  It was as well I did not do so, since, as I moved on, a branch crashed out of a tree onto the exact spot upon which I should have been standing!

Book 38

The Service followed the orthodox lines of Choral Evensong at first and then the Litany was sung in procession, the Choir leading, then part of the congregation followed by the Rector, the visiting preacher and the supporting Clergy, and lastly, the rest of the congregation.  Still singing, the congregation passed out of the South door, round the Church to John Keble’s grave at the South West corner of the Churchyard, where prayers were said.

The Churchyard at All Saints, Hursley. Image by Matt via Flickr.

Returning home late in the afternoon  next day from work at the Fowlers’, Gran visits Mary Harding in Merdon Avenue and she makes an exciting find, noticing:

…a number of green fir [sic] cones beneath a pine tree…the cones were whole, not pulled to pieces as when squirrels attack them, and they were still falling – yes, it was birds.  I picked up a cone and examined it with mounting excitement.  Yes, again.  It was torn and split, every seed extracted.  Crossbills! I can scarcely wait for Barry to come home tomorrow.  I only hope they remain until he has seen them.

She is back at the Fowlers’ the following day helping with flowers for the Mauritania and the Oronsay, and she says:

…some excitement was caused by the discovery that two of England’s leading tennis players were sailing for America in the “Mauritania”.  I did not see the order for Helen Fletcher, but surmised that red was the favourite colour of Anne Shilcock or that red and white were the colours of her Club, since the three boxes of flowers for her were of scarlet Carnations, scarlet and white Carnations and red Roses, respectively.  One was to wish her a faultless tour of the United States – a subtle hint to serve no double faults, as at Wimbledon – one from “your two oldest admirers”, and one “to Auntie Anne, wishing you a lovely time with Uncle Sam”.

The Crossbills are still present when Barry comes home on a week’s leave. He arrives in his uniform:

…the first time I have seen him so – and he looked very tall and smart.  He borrowed my bicycle and went to look for Jock and Julian.  When he returned he was in civilian dress, wearing his college blazer – equally smart and more like himself!

The party of Crossbills, which includes juvenile birds, remains in the Merdon Avenue Pines and nearby areas for many days, being seen and enjoyed frequently by members of the family, who note that the pine cones are severed from the branch with the crossed mandibles, then held in a foot, parrot-fashion, while the seeds are extracted, after which the spent cone is dropped to the ground.  On one occasion, Gran notes:

On the way there [to the Pinewood Gardens] I saw that the roadman had swept up the fir cones dropped by the Crossbills. But, though I did not have time to look for them, they were still there since seven or eight cones had been dropped since the man’s ministrations.

A male Common Crossbill – a not particularly common finch, and it appears that those in Merdon Avenue were all greenish females and juveniles.  Image by Mark Hope via Flickr.

And that same day:

After tea with Mary Harding, I went to Eastleigh to see the Plays produced by the Divinity Club of the North End Secondary School, in which both Jill and Timothy were appearing, excerpts from “Little Women” and “Treasure Island”.  I can record in all honesty that these two children were the best of all, their speech good and their enunciation clear, but, as Frank said, “I did not know that John Silver came from Hampshire!”  Truly the accent could have been cut with a knife, but all the same, much patient work had obviously gone into the productions.

There is further comment concerning the impression given by the quality of a person’s voice in the following passage, written on July 21st:

I had to go to the village this morning and on my return passed one of the oldest cottages in Chandler’s Ford, which had been partially burnt out early on Sunday.  It was thatched and very picturesque and known as “the Old Cottage”.  It is believed to be over four hundred years old. The old lady who lived there alone is eighty-five years old and a well-known character in the district, running a small-holding, wearing ancient breeches under her skirt, wellington boots and a knitted cap, and, in wet weather, an old raincoat tied round the waist, and driving her own pony and trap when she goes hay-making with a scythe or collecting scraps for her pigs.

When I was first married I used to get logs from her and on one occasion, went into the cottage, which was crammed to overflowing with antiques and small treasures which must have been extremely valuable. Old Mrs Bailey is said to have quite a remarkable history but, however much of it is true, there is no doubt that she is a lady born, and the minute she opens her mouth to speak one is aware of the fact.

July 22nd is Gran’s birthday.  She receives from Mary Harding, a book, “The Old House at Coate” by Richard Jefferies, together with a card in which Mary has written some “beautiful lines”.  And Gran adds that she had “a lucky birthday, for besides Mary’s book, I had a beautiful tureen-shaped bowl in natural china, nylons, a pair of shoes and the ever-useful cash, for which I have many uses. I did not waste any time before arranging some flowers in my bowl…”.  Tennis is planned for later in the day but heavy rain threatens to wash it out. However:

We had arranged to play tennis at Compton this evening, Jock, Mary who had not played for twelve years, Mrs Carmichael, her friend, who had not played for two years, and myself.  The court had dried and we had some very enjoyable games, the two restarting the game, “getting their eye in” remarkably well, if a trifle uncertainly at first.  Anyway, I thought it was fun and would like to do it again.  House Martins were flying round the court and Yellowhammers and a Greenfinch were singing.

Rain also threatens to spoil the Sherborne House School speech Day Celebrations, which Gran attends the following day.  The event is held in a marquee, given the risk of rain, but throughout there is not a cloud in the sky.  Gran describes some of the performances:

…the older girls giving a commendable performance of part of the casket scene in Shakespeare’s “Merchant of Venice”, and the younger children were most amusing in “Ten Little N****** Boys”, particularly the one who went to the zoo and the bear hugged him.  He hugged himself with tremendous gusto and collapsed on the ground with a most realistic gasp.  None of these was much above five years of age.  Two small fairies were overcome with stage fright and fled in tears but one gallantly returned and, nearly choked with sobs, spoke her little piece with commendable courage.

We learn that evening from Gran’s notes, that “her Pyrus tree” frequently referred to when birds are feeding in it, is a Mountain Ash, “now renamed Sorbus aucuparia”.  It is laden with clusters of berries.

The Mountain Ash or Rowan. Image by Tomohiro Sibuya via Flickr.

On July 26th Gran leads a British Naturalists’ Association meeting to Hatchet Pond, in the New Forest.  Her journey there is a bit stressful, she discovering “too late that the 12:30 Hiltingbury ‘bus does not run on Sundays, and by the time I was on the Winchester – Southampton one, I knew I had no hope of catching the 1:30 Hythe Ferry”. Nevertheless, she eventually gets to the Pond, meeting her brother there, together with three Guildford and Aldershot members and three local members.  They have a full day botanising, finding many local and unfamiliar wetland, bog and other plants:

But it was in one of the Sphagnum moss-filled streamlets that our greatest treasure was found, a new one for my Hampshire list and one that I have never seen before.  It was the minute Bog Orchis (Malaxis paludosa), only about three inches high, with tiny yellow-green flowers. After seeing the first one we found a good many more, together with Western Butterwort (Pinguicula lusitanica) and Bladderwort (Utricularia minor).

The insignificant and hard-to-find Bog Orchid – on Gran’s list at last! Image by Keith Wilson via Flickr.

In spite of another bad headache a couple of days later, Gran is late in retiring because, she says:

I wanted to wait for Jane, who had had a long, busy day at school.  But when she did come home, I was glad I waited, for she was happy and triumphant. She had won her Life-saving badge and bronze medal at swimming, and the tennis singles cup for the fourth year in succession.

And the next day is a landmark one for Jane:

Jane has just come home from School for the last time, this being the last day of term and she has left.  The Headmistress, Miss Roxburgh, wrote at the end of her report, “…Jane’s sincerity and quiet common sense are her great assets and she has made a valuable contribution to the community of which she is a member.  We shall miss her.”  I think, a nice tribute, for she has certainly been most conscientious and has enjoyed her school life tremendously.  It does not seem possible that my baby is nineteen years old, and life will be very queer for me when she goes to College in September.  Miss Roxburgh and Winchester County High School are not the only ones who will miss my Jane.

Article series

Related posts:

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 52) Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 53) Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 54)
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , ,

Reader Interactions

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *