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Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 146)

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Gilbert – a tour cut short; Gran – pro Europe? Julian – M.A. (Oxon) and selection for the World Student Games; more changes at Farley Mount; a bright pink posterior; astonishing tennis; a bombshell from Sydney; Gran on crutches – “imagine me!”; a bat in the bedroom, and the Brenans in Austria.

On June 2nd 1975, a day when Gran paints Rhododendron, which, she notes, “… brought my total of flower paintings to six hundred and ninety”, she receives a disheartening letter from Marjorie Frewer, Gilbert Whitley’s sister:

A disappointment by post today.  Gilbert is not well enough to continue his travels so will not be able to come to England.  He and Marjorie are flying back to Australia today.

In the afternoon she visits family members in Bassett:

… sister-in-law Joan Birch, and spent a very enjoyable time with her.  Nephew and niece, Brian and Angela, both married, called in so it was nice to see them also.  I took Barry’s book, two albums of flower paintings and my scrap-book of Julian cuttings, which I thought might interest Joan and Ken, and they did indeed… Ken and Joan gave me some very nice stamps from Virgin and Cayman Islands.

On June 5th, following a day out with Norris on the 4th, Gran does not appear to follow her instincts:

Brother went back to Lyndhurst this morning after taking me to vote in the Common Market Referendum.  I followed Julian’s advice and voted to stay in – he has studied Economics at Oxford and it will be the young people who will face the results of our decision.

And next day she listens to the Referendum results on the radio, saying, “There was an overwhelming vote for Britain to stay in the Common Market so I hope Julian is right and this is going to be the best thing for this dear old country”.  Later that day:

Anne Barrett’s children [living in Kingsway] brought the larvae of Stag Beetles which they had found buried at the edge of their drive and which I had not seen before.  Looking them up, I found that Stag Beetles are restricted to Southern England and the larvae live in decaying wood, presumably burying when fully grown.  Anne refused to have them replaced in her garden so I suggested that they be buried somewhere near the Lake.

Stag Beetle larvae – valuable creatures in the garden but Anne was not keen!  Image by Leonora (Ellie) Enking via Flickr.

Book 159

Stag Beetles remain fairly common in the Hiltingbury area to this day, and Gran mentions one on her return to The Ridge on June 18th, having had a day out in the New Forest with Norris: “A male Stag Beetle was crawling on the Silver Birch tree outside the French Window soon after we reached home”.  She continues that day with news of Julian:

He has finished his course and final exams at Oxford and there now remain only end of term celebrations.  He says he has enjoyed his time at Oxford tremendously and has learnt much, whatever the exam results may be.  He is feeling exhausted now, but was expecting to run for the R.A.F. at Meadowbank, Edinburgh today, and meeting the students of Harvard and Yale at Birmingham tomorrow for a final celebration.

Gran and Norris are out again together on June 25th, and despair somewhat at the encroachment of the modern world on theirs:

Arrived at Farley Mount which we have known and loved since childhood when it was unspoilt country and reached only by a narrow track, we were horrified to be confronted by a large gaudy notice announcing welcome to Farley Mount Country Park, with various other notices strategically placed!  I was reminded of the following apt lines by Mervyn Goode –

“You cannot see that you destroy,

The very things you came here to enjoy;

Like solitude,And quiet seclusion,

Ruined by your own intrusion.”

We enjoyed all these things years ago, for nobody else ever came.

Delighted to find their well-known patches of Meadow Cranesbill coming into full flower at Ashley, they are, at the same time dismayed “… to find that all the Martagon Lilies, seen earlier in bud, had been dug up”, thus further fuelling their exasperation at the negative effects of too many unsympathetic visitors to “their” countryside.

Something to be pleased about at Farley Mount – Meadow Cranesbill. Image by Chris Morriss via Flickr.

Australian, Ellen Kniep, one of several overseas acquaintances (such as Peter Loveridge from New Zealand and Phaik Har from Malaya) often mentioned but to whom we have never been fully introduced by Gran, arrives for a visit on July 3rd. Her train arrives in Winchester at 3.30 that afternoon.  Gran and Norris meet her, drive her home to The Ridge for tea and then they visit Cranbury Park together.  Gran says:

We found her very Australian and very easy to get on with.  She brought me a pretty little bowl and dish in yellow and white with small flowers painted round the edges.  Cranbury was exceedingly dry as are all areas just now but it provided much of interest for our visitor.   The birds are almost silent now, moulting after nesting, and we were unable to give Ellen one of her main desires – to hear a Nightingale sing, but a Chiffchaff obliged.

After supper, our Hedgehog obligingly came to drink in the bowl outside the dining-room French window and then to the box for his food.  Brother and I were washing up and could watch proceedings from the kitchen window.  We were convulsed with mirth at the sight of Ellen on hands and knees, half into the shrubbery, intent on watching Hedgehog at his supper, and only her posterior, clad in bright pink slacks, protruding from the herbage!

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

The chalkland of Farley Mount is their destination next morning, before Ellen catches the one-thirty train from Winchester to London, Gren recording that she had “a wonderful time and was most grateful to us”.

She and Norris arrive home, she adds:

… in time to see the Final of the Women’s singles at Wimbledon, but so sadly out of touch was my favourite, Evonne Cawley (Goolagong) that I could not bear to see her defeated by Mrs King, so I went out to see Brother away to Lyndhurst and then cleared away the remains of our lunch in the kitchen.  It is a pity that Evonne had to change her name on her marriage, for Goolagong has the picturesque meaning “Trees beside the quiet water”.

The following day’s tennis, she finds much more gripping:

… the Final of the Men’s singles took place and an astonishing affair it was!  The reigning champion, Jimmy Connors, so full of self-confidence, was beaten in four sets by the American negro Arthur Ashe, who played a superb match, winning the first two sets 6-1 6-1, losing the third 5-7 and then winning the fourth.  A popular win, richly deserved.  A pair of little Japanese girls, with impossible names, and unseeded, won the Ladies’ doubles in three sets…

Arthur Ashe – Wimbledon Champion.  Image courtesy of Thomas Hawk via Flickr.

On July 8th:

Post brought a disturbing letter from Marjorie, Gilbert’s sister, which told me that he had suffered a mild coronary and was in hospital.  When Marjorie phoned for news just before she wrote to me she was told that his condition was good, so, since Brother made such a splendid recovery from a severe attack, there is every hope that Gilbert will do likewise… I wrote to him this morning.

Gran and Brother buy heathers to plant on their parents’ grave in Hollybrook Cemetery on the 9th, and once this job is done, they drive to Parnholt – one of their favourite destinations.  They have an interesting experience at Mottisfont, on the way:

… as we drew in near the bridge, we were amazed to see a great emergence of Scarlet Tigers, which we had not  seen in this area before.  They were everywhere, some flying quite high over the hedges and across the road, and then suddenly, the whole movement stopped and there was not one to be seen.

A Scarlet Tiger – “They were everywhere”, said Gran.  Image by Paul Gulliver via Flickr.

Several letters from Gilbert’s sister, reassuring Gran of her brother’s successful return home to Sydney and his continued good progress in hospital there, arrive during July, but then, on the 24th:

Later post brought a letter from Marjorie which contained a bombshell quite unexpected and which caused me great distress.  Gilbert died last Thursday, a few hours after coming out of hospital and assumed to have recovered from his coronary.  I really felt quite stunned at this loss of my oldest and much respected, kindly friend, who had been so loyal to Brother and me over the years… I shall always regret that he was unable to visit us when he came to Europe this time, though he will always be remembered and his many writings much valued.

Gran’s dear lifelong friend, Gilbert Whitley, photographed on the hospital balcony in Sydney on 17th July 1975. He died at home, later that day, while asleep, in front of the television.  Photo by Marjorie Frewer.

Next day – grandson Andrew’s eleventh birthday – sees her writing letters of thanks for presents received on her own recent birthday; painting Small Bur-reed, “which”, she writes, “Brother and I found at Matley Passage on Wednesday”.  And she continues:

I retired early, restless and depressed about Gilbert.  I cannot yet believe that I shall receive no more of his humorous letters and regular First Day Covers, always so welcome.

Following a visit to Dr Russell Grant at Winchester Hospital on the 28th, concerning her constant hip and leg pain, Gran is given an unwanted verdict:

I have acute and advanced osteo-arthritis in the hip, slight curvature of the lower spine and the muscle trouble.  I am to have elbow crutches, (imagine me!!) to take the weight off the hip, treatment for the muscles at the Eastleigh clinic for a time, daily if possible, or three time a week, and, if not successful, at the pool in Winchester.  This until September, when, if all else fails, an operation on the hip, not a replacement, but a minor operation to redistribute the weight…

There is some better news that day too:

A joyous phone call from Julian soon after I got home – he has got his Degree in Politics, Philosophy and Economics with second class Honours so is now a B.A. (Oxon).  I was more than delighted and some of my recent depression was lifted.

Her treatment starts the very next morning:

… to the clinic at Eastleigh… for the first of three weeks’ daily intensive treatment for hip and spent a painful and very hot hour, with a bus journey to and from not helping at all”.

July 30th:

Wakened at three o’clock this morning by a curious noise in my bedroom and, putting on my light, I was very surprised to see a Pipistrelle Bat flying round.  As my big windows were not open it must have come in by the small one.  Now, I am very fond of Bats, but not as my companions in the small hours.  I opened the windows wide and did my best to make it go out but it would fly frantically about the room and occasionally hide behind pictures and ornaments.  After nearly and hour it crept under the tea-caddy on the cupboard by the windows and, as I lifted the caddy I was able to put a box over it and scoop it out of the nearest window.  After all this excitement of course, I could not settle again and eventually overslept!

A kind letter that day from Gilbert’s niece Pat, and her Greek husband, Lazaros, “… speaking of me as Gilbert’s oldest friend”, warms Gran’s heart with its clear expression of sympathy. And over the following weeks she receives several “kind letters of comfort”, from Gilbert’s sisters, both in Australia, Marjorie and Vera.

Gilbert Whitley, photographed  in 1922, aged 19. Gran wrote of him, “He had contributed so much to Science and to Life and will have left a richness to the World which would have been missing but for him”.  Who could wish for a better epitaph?

“I had a lift into Eastleigh for treatment this afternoon and received a pleasurable shock!”, she writes on the last day of the month:

Waiting at the side of the road for a break in the traffic to allow my still rather slow passage on crutches across to the other side, I suddenly found a  gentleman beside me, taking my arm ands shepherding me over, slowing the traffic as he did so.  I was very touched and grateful but I suddenly realized I must be an elderly woman!  The treatment was less painful today and Mrs Mortimer was pleased with my progress.

Nevertheless, Gran finds during these weeks that the treatment is no relief to her pain and she is resigned, saying, “I think the operation is inevitable”.  The Brenan family are with Gran during early August, Ricky and Beverly, too, are in Chandler’s Ford, “up from Devon”, Gran writes, and also Julian, who Gran proudly states, “…has been selected for the World Student Games in Rome in September…”.  She spends a very pleasant and much appreciated afternoon with him at Farley Mount on the 7th, “… with our tea, which Jane had prepared for us”.

Further mail from Marjorie Frewer gives Gran some poignant comfort on August 15th:

…another kind letter from Marjorie with some Australian stamps and a photograph of Gilbert which she took on the balcony of the hospital just before he left on the day he died.  She has received some wonderful tributes to Gilbert from many societies praising his scientific work, his modesty and great sense of humour.

More post on the 19th, Gran tells us:

… bringing a card from Jane and family from Mutters in Austria, telling us that all was more than up to their expectations, the children thrilled by the flight to Germany, the hotel at Mutters superb, the mountains just out of this world, flowers wonderful and the trips most enjoyable.  At Innsbruck Katherine and Andrew ran up the steps to the stand where the flame will burn for the Winter Olympics, and a Tyrolean Evening had been arranged for the evening of the day Jane wrote the card.

A postcard from Austria. X marks the family’s hotel.

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Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 52) Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 102) Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 107) Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 117) Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 123)
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  1. It is interesting to read of people Gran knew and who also crossed my path. Dr Russell Grant was one. He was very helpful to me early in my medical career. One of his memorable sayings was that meals on wheels are all very well, but afterwards, you need pans in vans.
    He introduced me to James Robertson Justice, the actor, at a party. I decided that JRJ was not really an actor, that was just the way he was.
    I have not seen a stag beetle this year. I love having one crawl over my hand. My wife shudders and the grandchildren feign terror.

    Reply

    • Interesting comments Mike – many thanks. I know that JRJ was a great friend of Peter Scott’s in his wildfowling days. Talking of people who crossed your path, we’ve not heard of Peg Eagle for a while but, reading ahead in the journal a little, I find that she has moved to Devon.

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