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Winston Churchill’s Funeral; Gran cleans her bicycle; woods are cleared and orchids bulldozed; a visit to Chew Valley; “tall beauties in a Kentish Wood”; Pendennis Castle runs aground; a rare visit to Kingston; some fine tennis; The Sound of Music; botanizing with Barry, and the joys of grandchildren.

My [silver] discs for Andrew and Geoffrey arrived from Canada this morning, so, after a hurried lunch, I took my Grandmother’s bracelet to Parkhouses to have them put on, and to have a safety chain added.

On the same day, January 28th 1965, Gran delivers a very expensive arrangement of flowers to Lady Sopwith, aboard the Windsor Castle.  It is made up entirely of pale pink Cymbidiums, Lilies-of-the Valley and Freesias, and Gran is pleased with the Lady’s positive response to their arrival, different, she says, from the often blasé acceptance from many passengers.  Lady Sopwith was very keen on field sports and a skilled user of the shotgun.  Gran would not have approved!

“I did only the most necessary chores this morning”, she writes on January 30th:

…and then watched on Television, the State Funeral of Sir Winston Churchill which was most beautifully and reverently presented.  The Queen herself honoured the great man by heading the Royal Family representatives in the Abbey and it was a very notable gathering of Kings, Queens, Princes, Presidents and Prime Ministers ever seen at the funeral of a Commoner.  It was all very moving.  This afternoon I did some knitting and then fell asleep!

Gran gives thanks; a change to the Castle Line schedule; The Bartered Bride; a tough time for the Eagle family; two christenings; disapproval of plant collecting; fifty pounds saved; “nippers” on HMS Victory; a new bird on Brownsea Island, and farewell to Winston Churchill.

October 4th 1964: “A quiet afternoon writing more letters”, Gran tells us, and she continues:

…this evening I went to Church, primarily to give thanks for Geoffrey’s safe arrival and Jane Elizabeth’s well-being, but it proved to be a most uplifting and inspiring service, conducted by a visiting clergyman, a Welshman, whose name I unfortunately do not know.  His sermon was based on our interdependence one upon the other and our Brotherhood in God the Father, and he spoke with the utmost sincerity and forthrightness.  I shall long remember this evening.

A homely welcome at Shulbrede Priory; more grandchildren on the way; two boys with “astonishing energy”; the Wayfarer’s Dole; Mother is eighty-seven; a third daughter for Jean Hockridge; chasing a Wryneck, and Cousin Fairlie joins her in Teesdale.

Being a Grandmother is a great joy to Joan Goater.  On March 13th 1964 she receives some welcome mail from overseas, and reports:

Today’s post brought my Grandmother’s bracelet from Jill Brewster in Canada, silver discs bearing the name and date of birth of my grandchildren, Julian, Rhoderick (Ricky) and Katherine.  I shall, D.V., have another one to add in September and I am proud and delighted to have it.  It is a Canadian idea.

“A wonderful day though it was not in the least what I expected”, she begins her entry for the 15th.  “I met Peg at the top of Hiltingbury Road at ten minutes to ten and we set out for the Punchbowl at Hindhead, in Surrey.”  Snow is falling.  It is already two inches deep and she is not optimistic about the outing, which is with members of the Mid-Southern Branch of the British Naturalists’ Association.  Nevertheless, she describes an interesting day:

The object of the expedition was mosses, and the leader, the Honourable Laura Ponsonby, whom we have not met before… we realised that hunting for mosses in such conditions was impossible so she suggested that we should try lower ground and led the way.  Three cars followed her through quiet lanes… to Lynchmere, where Miss Ponsonby turned into what was obviously the drive into a private estate.  When we got out, I asked her if it was all right for all our cars to park there and she said, “Oh yes.  I live here!”

“Here” was the old and beautiful Shulbrede Priory, which was built in 1190, and we were taken round the grounds on our moss hunt.

The car goes “clunk”; hello Katie; a plant search with little hope; Santana and Osuna – equally matched;  Soberton Mill for sale; Julian and Ricky – embarrassed; planning for Teesdale; another grand-child expected; Spring-fever brings depression, but the Royal Ballet is uplifting.

Gran has a good day’s botanising on June 8th 1963, with other members of Southampton Natural History Society, on Browndown Ranges, near Lee-on-Solent.  The group is led, she says, by Mr Westrup, who is compiling the new Flora of Hampshire.  Nottingham Catchfly is a particular goal, a new plant for Gran, and they find plenty of this as well as several attractive grass species, also new for her list, including Purple Small-reed and Bush Grass [now called Wood Small-reed].  She paints the Catchfly next day – the five-hundred and first in her collection.

Two winters compared; ” just what he needs”; a cocoon in a hat; Bucklers Hard – a disappointment; a visit to Bulcote; drawings lost – and found; the Mudds move out; fifteen Robins’ eggs, and an addition to the family.

The bitter weather of the now infamous 1962/63 winter is still making itself felt at the end of January 1963, and on February 1st, Gran says:

The snow is still with us and January’s final records are in!  It was the coldest January for one hundred and twenty-five years, but, paradoxically, it was also the sunniest and the driest this century.  It is certainly one that I shall remember.

And a few days later, she records the figures in more detail, comparing them with those from the equally memorable winter of 1947.  The lengths of the cold spells were similar: fifty days in 1947 and forty-six in 1963, but most telling are the days of frost and snow-lie, with fifteen days the longest run of frost in 1947 compared with thirty-seven in 1963; and the days with snow lying in 1947, a mere twelve compared with forty-two in 1963.

There are several newspaper cuttings pressed between the journal’s pages concerned with the plight of birds and other wildlife during the winter, including that of the Dartford Warbler, almost, and potentially completely, wiped out in its British stronghold – the New Forest.

Natural History outings continue, including a return to Hayling Island, with friend, Doreen Peters and brother Norris, the latter very keen to see his first Collared Doves, which they do, as well as finding a new goose species for Gran, who writes:

I spotted a small party of geese in a field close to the lane and we stopped to investigate.  We remained in the car to avoid disturbing them and had a wonderful view.  There was no doubt about it – they were actually Pink-footed Geese, nine of them and we could see every detail.  This was a new species for me.