A memory of Italy; delight in caring for a baby again; the Queen comes home; some serious athletics; a lot of orchids; more trees felled in Chandler’s Ford; Chelsea Flower Show again and a mouse causes some amusement.
Book 44
Gran records with pleasure an experience enjoyed by Jane, with Robin Eastwood, early in May 1954 when on a wet and windy day, which made travel in the open-topped Talbot uncomfortable, the couple end the day with dinner at the Grand Hotel. A good orchestra was playing, she tells us, and after Robin had asked the name of a piece just played, the leader asked if there was anything Jane would like to hear. She chose a selection from Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake and this scenario reminded Gran of her very similar and wonderful experience as a seventeen-year old, when, she writes, “the leader of the Orchestra in the Carlo Felici Restoranti in Genoa used to ask me, with a low bow, “and what would the signorina like us to play now?”.
On May 9th, Gran is happy to have Julian all day, as Barry and Jock travel to meet Norris in London, in order to “view the prospects of getting a home in the neighbourhood of Haberdashers’ school”.
They return around seven o’clock that evening, and Gran records:
They had met Brother and seen the Black Redstarts on St Paul’s Cathedral, before commencing house-hunting. They could do little more than scout about for a suitable neighbourhood and rather fancied Radlett.
Meanwhile, Gran and Julian spend much of the day at Otterbourne; Julian excitedly watching the passing traffic from his pram while Gran searches for small plants in the short turf, and later, Gran bathes him and puts him to bed. “How delightful to have a baby to care for again”, she writes. Indeed, Gran and Julian spend a great deal of time in each other’s company these days, Gran exposing the toddler to all sorts of natural history wonders, including feeding the Mute Swans at The Lake and also that quintessential activity of childhood – the blowing of “dandelion clocks”.
On May 13th, Jane’s twentieth birthday and the first for which she has not been at home, Gran writes:
Tomorrow our Queen is due in Home Waters on her return from the Commonwealth Tour, which she has completed with wonderful grace and courage, giving herself with great generosity to the service of her people.
And the following day, rather than spending her time, as she does, “washing and ironing, and going no further than the Corner Shop and Kingsway Post Office”, she:
…would so much have liked to go somewhere on the South Coast to see the Royal Yacht passing, bringing our much loved young Queen and her Consort home after their wonderful tour.
On the 15th, Gran observes of the Queen’s return that, “the warmth of her welcome must have far outweighed the chilliness of the weather” and she listens to the radio:
…following her progress in the Royal Yacht Britannia to the Pool of London, and thence to Westminster Bridge in the Royal Barge, onwards by road to Buckingham Palace, feeling my own heart swell with the mighty roar of cheering – cheering such as only a British crowd can produce – and the tears welling in my eyes, as the noise of ships’ sirens on the river mingled with the voices of the happy people lining the banks…
Another broadcast plucks at Gran’s emotions a few days later:
…I listened to a dramatized version of Paul Gallico’s beautiful little story, “The Snow Goose”, with Sir Laurence Olivier as Philip Rhayader, and, as I knew it would, it brought the tears, for it touches a chord in my own aching heart and renews in it the pain of parting, yet listen to it and read the book I must at every opportunity. Fritha’s anguished cry of “God-speed, Philip”, at the end might be an echo of my own soul’s agony, when each night I silently pray, “God bless you, Adrian, my dearest”.
A letter received from Jane on the 19th, is described by Gran as, “…so descriptive and so full of youthful enthusiasm that I think it is worth quoting verbatim in this, my book of beautiful memories”. It contains an account of Jane’s visit to London to witness the homecoming of the Queen.
Saturday. It was marvellous! Unfortunately we had a compulsory swimming lecture in the morning by Max Madders, the Olympic coach, so we were unable to catch a train before 12:36. We arrived in Victoria just after 2 pm and from there went by tube to Trafalgar Square. When we reached to top of the steps our hearts nearly failed us – never had I seen such hordes of people – but we had said we were going to see the Queen drive down the Mall, and down the Mall we would go to see her! There were three of us – Jill, Paddy and myself. We had worn our cloaks, partly because they were warm, partly because they wouldn’t get messed up if we sat down, but mainly because we would be able to spot each other more easily if separated.
As it happened, we couldn’t have worn anything better – we were mistaken mostly for nurses (by one old lady as nuns!) and the crowd just stood back to let us pass!
Following directions from about six different policemen, the three girls made their way by backstreets, to the mid-point of the Mall, where the crowd was only “about six deep, so we were able to see a little and, with the aid of mirrors, a lot”. Jane describes how the relative silence of the crowd slowly develops into to a mighty roar as first, guns are heard, then all the church bells of London ring out, and the clattering of horses’ hooves are heard passing underneath Admiralty Arch. Jane continues:
Suddenly the lady standing next to me clutched at me and dragged me up on to her stool and a gentleman behind lifted me by the waist and I was looking down into the Royal Carriage. There was the Queen, the Duke and the two kiddies. Oh they were lovely and so were the Household Cavalry – they were a sight for the Gods!
The girls were then carried by the surge of the crowd towards the Palace where they had good views of two appearances by the Queen and other members of the Royal Family, including the Queen Mother and Princess Margaret. Jane adds:
After they had disappeared again, a tiny figure appeared at one of the huge windows. It was Princess Anne. As everyone noticed her, the cheers rose, until a pair of hands suddenly appeared round her waist and she was whisked away – then the cheers turned to laughs. I wouldn’t have missed it all for worlds.
They made a lot of friends in the nearby crowd and were encouraged by them to stay and be late for their return to College but:
…being dutiful students, we felt we had better go, though naturally we left it to the last minute and had to run all the way. Altogether we seemed to cause a lot of amusement…
County Athletics takes place in Portsmouth on May 22nd, Dad (Barry) competing in the 440 yards and the 4 x 440 yards relay. Although his team finishes third in the relay, Gran records that Barry achieved his personal best time in that race: 53:2 seconds, and that he was about two seconds slower than this in his 440 yards race.
The vehicle, an Austin, used by the Fowlers for flower deliveries, is clearly a capacious one, because three of the Fowler family, together with Gran, Barry, Jock and Julian travel in it to Langrish, on the Petersfield Road, to look for chalkland plants on May 23rd. The “Prammock” is again pressed into service, but Julian spends much of his time enjoying the damp undergrowth in his “puddleboots” – the name that for many years I assumed was the correct one for “Wellingtons”. Gran compiles a long list of all species seen, which includes numbers of Fly and Early Purple Orchids, Common Twayblade, Solomon’s Seal and Herb Paris.
Gran hopes to add Bird’s-nest Orchid to her year list the following day, looking “hopefully but unsuccessfully…in the little remaining of our lovely Oakwood. I was sad to see yet another plot cleared of its trees, particularly pathetic at this time of year when they are so full of vigorous new growth, and so beautiful”. Later she visits what she describes as “the delightful garden of my friend Mrs Doncaster and found it as beautiful and full of wonder as always”. There, she is given “several little plants, including two rock Phlox, one a brilliant cerise and one mauve with a dark centre, which I hope will settle happily in my garden”.
Treecreepers have been nesting in a Cypress tree next door to The Ridge. Gran has been watching the parents carrying food to the unfledged brood over the last few days and looking forward to seeing the young once they are out of the nest. May 25th is the big day:
Great excitement was caused this morning by the baby Treecreepers, who left the nest for their initial flight. There were at least four…they flew from tree to tree in the garden, flying strongly and clinging to the trunks, but when I went outside they “froze” and were then almost indistinguishable. They also flew up and clung to the wall of the house, and once, when I came up to my room to look at them, I found two on the window ledge, one of them pressed close to my window… It was a beautiful little creature.
That afternoon Gran helps her friend Mrs Durst in her garden at Compton, but she goes to bed early in the evening, she says, “for I must be up early tomorrow since I start for Chelsea Flower Show at 7.15 am.
As usual, her day at Chelsea, including the journey (driven by Bob Fowler, with his wife Tommy, Gran and her mother, on her seventy-fifth birthday) is described in great detail; a particular highlight on the way, being close views of a Great Crested Grebe in full summer plumage on Hut Pond, near Ripley.
Following a wonder-filled perambulation of the Show, the party, excluding Bob who attends a florists’ meeting all day, sits and rests until it is time to have tea at the BOAC restaurant. Gran writes that she was:
…glad to sit down and watch the many other interesting visitors… Particularly I enjoyed seeing the Indian women, in their lovely native dress. One young girl was dressed in a scarlet sari, white dress bordered with scarlet and gold and sandals. She had wonderful black hair and walked superbly. A party of young Chinese students were full of high spirits but one or two obviously wealthy American men taking movie pictures of the gardens were too arrogantly pleased with themselves to be either attractive or interesting.
Yes, I don’t think Gran was particularly fond of Americans, in spite of their role, which she must have welcomed, in bringing World War 2 to a relatively quick end, finding what she saw as their brashness grating and immodest. Perhaps she saw too much of them, when they were encamped in the Hiltingbury woodlands prior to D-Day.
In recent weeks, Gran has enjoyed observing the antics of a Field Mouse, which has taken up residence in the rockery. On May 29th, she recounts this amusing scene:
I was looking out of the sitting room window and saw it carrying a piece of bread, which it had found in the garden, to the crack under the garage door, where it was found to be too large to get through. The mouse disappeared into the garage and I went into the kitchen to watch through the glass panel in the door which connects them, and saw it trying all ways to drag the bread through, even standing almost upon its head. Several times it gave up and ran all round the garage as if seeking something. Eventually it returned and succeeded in nibbling the bread into smaller pieces and carrying them in separately. It took them behind the large cupboard in which I keep my bottled fruit. I heard it later tearing paper as I went through the garage and suspect it of nest-building!
The following day she listens “rather sadly”, to the last performance by Tom Jenkins in “Grand Hotel” with the Palm Court Orchestra, saying:
In his little speech before playing his solo, he thanked listeners for their letters, “even those which were not very nice to read”. How anyone could have written him a not very nice letter I cannot imagine…
She wishes him well in his new appointment.
There are few of her own observations to record in the first few days of June, though she and Jock spend some happy time together with Julian, in Southampton buying a “folding pram”, and later along the River Itchen, the adults observing wildlife and the toddler excitedly watching “the numerous trains running over the bridge…and seeing so much water close at hand!” “We did manage to keep him out of it”, Gran writes.
“Nevertheless”, she continues on June 4th, “Barry provided plenty worthy of recording in my book”:
On Wednesday he won the half-mile race in the No 81 Group Athletic Championships, and was awarded a beautiful trophy…and the following is an extract from the Bath and Wilts Chronicle and Herald:
“J. Yates, Welsh Junior mile champion and Glamorgan County Champion, was expected to win the half-mile. But both in his heat and in the final he was headed by Flying Officer Goater (Rudloe Manor). Goater’s time in the final fell short by 0.1 sec. of the Group’s record of 2 mins 0.4 secs. Both Goater and Yates fought it out shoulder to shoulder in a fast sprint over the last 220 yards but Goater had the extra speed and stamina left in the straight to draw away and win by about 3 yards”.
More details of Barry’s exploits follow, Gran telling us that he visited Chesil beach at Abbotsbury to see the ternery there, and also that he:
…found the Sea Pea (Lathyrus maritimus) for the first time. This must be, I think, quite the most beautiful of the wild peas, with a cluster of about six or eight flowers in lovely shades of blue and pink with a pure white lip…it is rare, occurring in only a few localities in the South of England, in Shetland and in County Kerry. After painting it, I shall give it to Diana for her collection.
Dad must have collected a sample of the plant for his Mother to paint, and this appears to be the very early days of her flower-painting, Sea Pea being number 6 in the first of her 24 volumes, preceded by Setterwort, Snowdrop, Daffodil, Lungwort and Lady’s Smock – all of which she painted in 1954, for a calendar, each representing a month starting with January. The painting below is dated 1961 though, so it appears that she re-painted and improved on some of her earliest attempts.
Having spent a large part of June 5th painting the Sea Pea, Gran stays up late to record, as she does each year, the evening bird chorus for the Bird Research Station at Glanton. She is pleased to hear Nightjar for the first time this year, later than usual, and she also records Woodcock on its “roding” display flight over the house. Hiltingbury Road, it appears, is still predominantly rural.
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)
- Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 54)
- Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 55)
- Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 56)
- Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 57)
- Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 58)
- Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 59)
- Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 60)
- Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 61)
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