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Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 129)

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The Truths of Life in Hursley Forest; guilty picking; birding at Keyhaven; the “abominable feline”; approval of the “QE 2”; sparrow hooligans; to Wales in the “Dagenham Donkey”, and nostalgia in Snowdonia.

Book 124

1969

Two of Gran’s journals are missing since August 1968, and we find ourselves on April 4th 1969. Barry and his family are staying at The Ridge for the Easter break.  Gran, apparently unable to go to Church, says:  “Good Friday, but I was unable to spend it as I used to do, but I must confess that I enjoyed my day and felt very close to the real Truths of Life”.  She spends the afternoon with Barry and Ricky, in Hursley Forest, noting new butterflies for the Spring, and seeing several nice birds, including Willow Tits, unheard of there today, and virtually extinct in the whole County of Hampshire.

The Willow Tit – almost impossible now to find in Hampshire.  Image by Philippe Rouzet via Flickr.


“Rick, the insatiable”, she writes, “later went to the river, where he saw a Green Sandpiper, and at dusk, Barry put on his moth trap in the garden”.  A few days later:

Julian sat in for me this afternoon, bless him, and Brother and I were able to go and find a plant that I have waited at least ten years to see flowering… We had obtained permission to visit a private wood at Axton, and now went up a long drive through a private and beautiful estate, at the entrance of which were two lodges.  In the wood we saw the object of our visit, Yellow Star-of-Bethlehem Gagea lutea, a most beautiful little flower.  Rather guiltily, I took one to paint, though we found ten without going off the little track, but I was much relieved of my conscience when I found that the stem had been almost severed by a slug and the flower would have soon died.

“A most beautiful little flower” – Yellow Star-of-Bethlehem.  Image by Andrew Skinner via Flickr.

April 9th:

Brother took Ricky out for the day and Julian also left early for an RAF course at Weston-Super-Mare [Julian is in the RAF section of Haberdashers’ School Combined Cadet Force].  I found Timmy’s Tortoise half buried in a hole he had dug in our garden and handed him back over the fence.  Jane, Stuart and family arrived in time for lunch…

It appears that the Brenan’s are visiting, partly to attend the memorial service for an acquaintance, Stan Denyer, but there are other family activities over the next few days, which, for the first time in twenty-one years of writing, prompt Gran to mention Bill, her husband in an indirect way.  She says “…Katherine and Andrew were taken to Farley Mount by their Grandpa”, and on another occasion, of Katherine, “…she went along the river with her Grandpa and I painted the leaves into my picture of the Yellow Star-of-Bethlehem, which is my first this year for my own collection, making six hundred and six in all”.

In spite of the impression we get from Gran’s writings that the grandchildren are “hers”, Gramps was active in his involvement with us all when he was around, and he clearly enjoyed our company, as we did, his.

Norris and Gran are planning a holiday together in Wales but on April 25th she receives a letter:

… from Fairlie this morning telling me that she is far from well and may not be able to come in June [to look after Mother] so that Brother and I could go to Wales.  I am trying to make alternative arrangements but I am very depressed and rather desperate.  I knitted hard this afternoon and evening and made good progress with Ricky’s pullover.

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

April 29th, Gran calls, “An absolutely fantastic and wonderful day… and one which did much to restore my soul”.  She is out all day with Brother, Mrs Hillier “sitting in” for them, with Mother.  Much of the day is spent at Keyhaven, birdwatching, with migrant shorebirds and seabirds recorded, including some behaviour by Little Terns that Gran finds interesting:

…a pair appeared, flying above a quiet inlet.  As we walked back along the sea wall we saw the female resting on a small rocky bank in the water and the male was courtship-feeding.  He hovered above the water and then suddenly dived.  When he caught a fish he immediately flew to his mate, awaiting him eagerly, and fed her, but if the dive failed, he uttered a little cry and she then remained unemotional.  It was a fascinating and lovely thing to watch.

A Little Tern fishing.  This dive, unsuccessful.  Image by hakuun sai via Flickr.

She recounts a less lovely experience, tinged with both horror and humour, on May 1st.  It concerns that recurring problem of Springtime in her garden:

This afternoon I was more furious and upset than I have been for a long time and felt murder in my heart!  The infernal little new cat next door climbed upon the little yew tree in our garden and my attention was attracted by the distracted cries of our Blackbirds, whose nest is in the tree.  I rushed out and found the cat close to the nest and just reaching forward.  I could just reach it and grabbed the monster by a hind leg and dragged it through the branches to the ground.  It let out an awful yell and rushed along the side of our house towards the front garden.  I pursued it and it jumped over the fence but immediately jumped up again.

There is more, involving considerable persistence on the cat’s part, further athletic chasing on Gran’s, and some remarkable close combat.  Gran is afraid that now the cat has located the nest, all will be lost, “…it will return when I am not about, to attack it”, she says.  Indeed, two weeks later, her little adversary is still troubling her and the garden birds and she ruefully recounts this:

I had an unpleasant fall this evening chasing that abominable feline from next door, and have hurt my right knee and left arm.  I stumbled on the grass and fell headlong, just missing crashing into one of the birch trees.  What a fool I am, and just on sixty-five!!

It is a long time since she delivered flowers to a liner in dock at Southampton but on May 2nd she is pleased to be able to experience a new vessel:

…the “Queen Elizabeth II”, sailing on her maiden Atlantic voyage.  She is a truly magnificent ship, with spacious cabins and superb public rooms… The Queen’s Room, furnished in cream, white and orange was particularly lovely, with a fine bust of the Queen at one end.  The red-furnished dining rooms and the library were also very pleasing indeed.  We could not wait to see the ship sail but already tickertape was streaming from the upper decks and a band was playing.

The Queen Elizabeth 2 docked at Southampton.  Gran approved.  Image by International Labour Organisation via Flickr.

A walk along the river with Brother later that day rewards Gran with several migrant birds new for the year, including, and giving her great excitement, one she has seen only twice before, the last time, ten years ago in the Pass of Ryvoan on Speyside.  It is a “beautiful cock Whinchat”, she writes.

She is out closer to home on the following day, “round the lake to map a route for Mary Morley, a Brownie who was later taking the test for her Discoverer Badge.  Wren and Wood Warbler were singing…”, and later, “Mary Morley came just after four o’clock and was an interested and bright little girl whom I was glad to pass for her badge”.

A letter from Jane at this time cheers Gran, as always, though:

…it did contain the news that Andrew is finding it hard to settle down happily at school.  After all, he is not five until July and it is a big step in life for such a little person to take, but he proudly took home his reading book yesterday and read it quite well to Stuart at bedtime.

And on the evening of the same day, Gran’s emotions are touched in two different ways: she tells us that she goes to Bassett to talk:

…to the Conservative Association Ladies about Wild Flowers of Hampshire.  They were an interested and appreciative audience and were pleased with the paintings I took to illustrate the talk.  I was very amused when Tommy Fowler was asked to propose the vote of thanks, but she said some very kind things, which touched me very much.

And:

…it was a dismal evening, particularly as I had told Mother that Norris (Brother) and I were going to Wales in June, and, if Fairlie was not well enough to come and be with her, we have arranged for her to go to the Bonhomie Holiday Home in Bursledon for the fortnight.  Surely it is not a crime to want an occasional holiday, particularly as Brother and I have for so long hoped for one together?  Oh dear!

There is some relief for Gran a couple of days later, when Mother appears to be in better spirits, and more accepting of these arrangements.

A newspaper cutting is between the pages of her journal in late May, entitled “Sparrow hooligans”.  Gran elucidates:

I was very interested in an article by Maurice Burton in the Daily Telegraph, in which he writes of the despoiling of a thrush’s nest by Sparrows, an event of which he had never heard before.  It reminded me of our Blackbird, whose eggs I actually saw being destroyed by sparrows.  I thought at the time that it was a most unusual happening.

She writes to Maurice Burton, giving him details of this, and his brief letter of thanks is also kept between the pages of the journal.

Gran’s excitement builds as the day for her and Norris’ departure for Wales draws near.  She has read-up on the flowers of Snowdonia and made lists of what she hopes to see, and has corresponded with Evan Roberts, “the warden”, she says, “of Snowdonia”, and he is willing to show them some of the special plants there.

Norris with his old Ford – referred to by him as “The Dagenham Donkey”.  Photograph taken by Gilbert Whitley.

Norris makes “final adjustments to the old car, ready for our departure on Saturday”, she writes on June 4th.

June 6th:

George Green came and brought us maps of Snowdonia and North Wales, on which he had marked the areas for special birds to be seen.  A very kind thought and the maps will be most useful to us.  Tommy came at teatime to take Mother with her tonight and will take her to Bursledon tomorrow.  Mother went quite cheerfully and I most sincerely hope she will be comfortable whilst we are away.

Norris stays the night at The Ridge, and Gran begins the story of their holiday:

Brother and I were up at four o’clock this morning, waking to a fine day… We had a cup of tea and Brother had some cornflakes and I a biscuit and we were away by five o’clock, just as the sun was rising.  It was a glorious morning, the world full of birdsong…

They travel slowly, Gran saying that “The AA had provided us with a splendid route, avoiding the major roads and sending us through most beautiful countryside…”.  They reach Hartpury in Gloucestershire something over four hours later and find the Watersmeet Motel where a large breakfast is rapidly demolished: “…bacon, egg, and sausages, toast and marmalade, and a pot of tea, before taking to the road again…”  “Through Chirk and Froncysyllte”‘ she records:

and we reached Llangollen at 1.30 and knew we were not very far from our destination.  Through the well-remembered Glyndyfrdwy on to the little Carrog Road where we stopped at the foot of the mountain to eat our lunch.  How familiar it all was after over fifty years!

At Carrog we saw the old Smithy, to which we used to take our Donkey, Jinny, to be shoed in those far-off days.  We passed the Rhagatt Estate, which has not altered much except that the beautiful old house is now a hotel, and dear old Bryn Meirion, where we spent so many happy holidays during our childhood.  The old wall is just the same, and the great iron gate, the Ash Tree still stands in the front garden and the Box Hedge still grows all up the drive.

There is no railway to Corwen now and the station is a sort of buffet now, but the town is virtually unchanged and we could recognise most of the shops, the Post Office, and the Owen Glyndwr Hotel.  There is still even the stone middle pillar of the old bridge over the Dee through which Cousin Norah fell when she was in her teens.  The bridge was removed as unsafe soon afterwards and Norah is now in her seventies!

Where cousin Norah fell, well over a century ago.  Image by Sarah Barker via Flickr.

We reached Merllyn Gwyn Farm at 4 o’clock where we were welcomed by Mrs Jones and given tea and two poached eggs on toast to tide us over until our evening meal at seven o’clock!

Gran and Norris explore the immediate area during the remainder of the day, each revelling in its natural history, the sounds of Curlew calling and the bleating of sheep and lambs.  “Sunset was clear and beautiful and the mountains looked so wonderful that I could have wept, so full was my heart”, writes Gran that evening.

There follow two weeks of joy for Gran, away from the cares of home, in the company of her well-loved elder brother, sharing experiences and remembering happy days of their childhood holidays, including these:

…we walked a short distance along the old railway and up over the familiar bank and high stile, still there, to the farm, Trewyn Bach, where we used to help with the harvest over fifty years ago.

…and then we went on along our “He Piggy” Way, where, inevitably as children, we were chased by the pig, always loose in the lane.  Today only the ruined wall of the cottage remains but he lane is as beautiful as ever…

Brother pointed out some of the very deep pools in which he and Ivan used to fish for Salmon.

…opposite Bryn Meirion and Pentre, and could see, on Mount Garr behind them, the old quarry where we built one of our huts.

…familiar old cattle shed in one of the fields and, on the side of the mountain, the Gamekeeper’s cottage from which we used to obtain honey and green peas.

Now we could see “our island” in the river where we spent so many happy hours playing.  It had built up somewhat and there was more herbage on it, but the huge old willow tree was still on the riverbank and, unbelievably, still the broken branch, which lay across the channel from bank to island, along which we used to crawl when the water in the channel was too deep for us to wade.

And:

…Bettws-y-Coed, which, fifty years ago, was only accessible by a horse-drawn coach, and I well remember going this way. Today we saw just such a “brake” standing outside a hotel on our way…Fairlie’s old home, “Justhome”, looks just the same but has been renamed “Coed Fryn”.

“Justhome” designed by cousin Dorothy Adamson, and the garden, laid out by cousin Fairlie Adamson.  Now named “Coedfryn”, the house is little changed.

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    • Many thanks Mike – you’ve probably no idea how uplifting it is to get a simple comment like that!

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