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Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 166)

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Goater and Rono battle it out; a “magnificent doll” – not selected;  a day at Slimbridge; the rarest bird Gran ever saw; a “nice experience for Rick”; Christmas with the neighbours; Gran – path-beater; mittens for the VG manager, and Gran’s “little Wood Duck”.

The two families, Barry’s and Jane’s, depart Chandler’s Ford after the celebrations for Grampa’s 80th and Gran is left feeling lonely.  She says on August 25th 1981, just after the Brenans have left, “I dashed up to my whist drive, missing only the first hand and received a great welcome.  I did not want to be at home with all the family gone”.  However, Barry returns that evening, she says:

… to do some high house painting outside for us tomorrow and lured me down to the New Forest for some moth-hunting.  I was already very tired but I would never refuse such a chance so packed up some supper and left at 7.15.

Mother and son have a fairly unsuccessful time “sugaring” oak trees with treacle at Tantany Wood, attracting few moths and they return home by 10.30.  Gran, as usual, puts out food for the Hedgehog last thing, “after which”, she writes, “I tumbled, exhausted but soul-satisfied, into bed!”

House-painting is delayed until the afternoon of the following day.  Gran admits that, “Though tired, but unwilling to admit it, I accepted Barry’s offer for me to go along the river this morning and it was very beautiful, very warm, and the water clear”.  They also spend a brief time at Shawford Down looking without success for Chalkhill Blues, and Gran notes, “… the area is now so overgrown with coarse grass, the little downland foodplants have no chance”.

Shawford Down – no longer suitable for Chalkhill Blues.  Image by Lucy Haydon via Flickr.

She records pages of news concerning Julian’s athletics over the summer, collecting press-cuttings, avidly reading Athletics Weekly and on August 28th she watches him on television running a 10,000 metres in Brussels against Henry Rono, the world-class Kenyan middle-distance runner, who, she continues:

… eventually won, with Julian maintaining his second place in his personal best time for this year making him fifth in the World now.  Of course Hilda Pheby rang me up full of enthusiasm and praise and said she and her neighbour had shouted Julian on all the way.  She told me to tell Julian he had driven her to drink because she had a whisky in her hand when she saw him first and, at the end of the race, it had gone and she had no recollection of having drunk it!

A few days later Gran proudly copies a long comment from Athletics Weekly, including this:

“It took as great a runner as world record holder, Henry Rono, to deny Goater what would have been his most outstanding international success, but Julian’s just reward was a superb 10,000 metres P.B. [Personal Best] of 27:47.54 – an improvement of nearly 8 seconds…”

Goater and Rono compete in the 5000 metres that evening, and Gran stays up late to watch the race, recording that again, Julian came second to Rono, breaking David Bedford’s Shaftsbury Harriers 5000 metres record and missing beating Brendan Foster’s British record by just one second.

She is annoyed to find no report of the race in the following day’s newspapers but says, “I shall always remember it, not only for Julian’s excellent performance but for the sight of Henry Rono taking Julian’s hand and leading him also on a lap of honour!”

“This afternoon”, she writes on September 9th:

… was the Club’s Exhibition of Handicrafts to be judged by an independent judge… I took up my Aran and painting of New Forest Flowers.  So high was the standard that I would not have liked the job of judging and selecting only six representatives of our club to go through to the Final on Saturday.  A magnificent doll, dressed in Norwegian costume, with all garments hand-made and all materials gathered from jumble sales, failed to make the grade and the exhibitor was extremely disappointed.  The six selected were a crochet cushion cover, a white baby coat, a crochet shawl, a small brass model of a penny-farthing bicycle – the only entry by a man, a turquoise knitted cardigan, and my New Forest Flowers.  They have to be at the Brownhill Old Folks Club by half-past ten on Saturday morning.

Three days later Gran tells us that her New Forest Flower painting gained a certificate, on which was the comment, “Selected for its special merit to represent the Happy Bunch Club”. And she is pleased to hear complimentary things said about it by a number of people.

On September 20th she joins a coach trip to the Wildfowl Trust at Slimbridge and nearby Berkeley Castle, gaining free entry to the former by telling the lady at the entrance that she is Ricky’s Grandmother.  Rick and his family are not there that day but she writes that she has a lovely day, in the company of a Colombian lady named Lilia Cadaird, who promises to send Gran copies of photographs taken that day.

Good waterfowl habitat at The Wildfowl Trust, Slimbridge, with the observation tower, not open to the public, designed by Falcon, Peter and Phillipa Scott’s son. Image by Michael Day via Flickr.

Book 196

Book 195 is missing.  Book 196 brings us to late November 1981, and Gran and Barry are in the Farley Mount area together watching winter birds and seeing the largest flock of Fieldfares – well over a thousand – they have ever seen.  That afternoon they drive to Bushey where Gran spends a few days but, having received news of an ultra-rare bird in Devon, she looks forward to the next Saturday when they plan to go to look for it.

The Hudsonian Godwit, she says, is a bird “of which I had never heard”.  It is the first individual of this American species to appear in the Western Palearctic.  On the Saturday, she, Barry and Geoff rise at three o’clock, leave Bushey after a quick snack, travel in darkness all the way to the Exminster Marshes by Countess Weir, near Exeter, arriving at daybreak, and joining a throng of like-minded birders waiting and hoping for the Godwit to appear.  Gran takes up the story:

A Black-tailed Godwit and an Oystercatcher flew into the meadow across the river and a Kingfisher flew rapidly upstream.  Pouring rain and gale-force wind sent us scurrying back to the car, feet and legs soaked and I was nearly blown over.  The sun came out and now in Wellington boots, I returned with the rest just before eight o’clock when the bird was said to usually fly in.  It was precisely at 8.05 when the Hudsonian Godwit obligingly flew in, alone, and settled down to feed right opposite the waiting crowd of about eighty bird-watchers.

A Hudsonian Godwit showing off its black under-wing coverts. Surely the rarest bird Gran ever saw. Image by Tom Benson via Flickr.

Gran, watching it through Barry’s telescope, describes it in some detail, noting particularly its characteristic black under-wing markings, seen when in flight, and its aggressive behaviour towards the nearby common Black-tailed Godwits, whose under-wings are white.  Just as exciting for her though, having spent time enjoying this rarity, is a visit to the estuary further down the Exe, near Powderham, where, she writes:

We crept under the low railway bridge to where there was a small battery of telescopes and binoculars and we were greeted by the exciting news that there were thirty-six avocets feeding on a distant mudflat, and I witnessed the incredible sight through Barry’s telescope.  Previously I had only ever seen a single, and two Avocets.

In Gran’s later years, Avocets became increasingly numerous, wintering on the Exe. Image by Gerard Meyer via Flickr.

Back at The Ridge by about five o’clock, Gran finds that her good neighbour Ruth has done some shopping for her and Gran learns from her that “the Hudsonian Godwit was mentioned in today’s Telegraph.  It stated that bird-watchers are flocking to Devon for a glimpse…”

The following day is Ruth’s daughter Jenny’s fifteenth birthday.  Gran takes her “a little present” and is invited for dinner with the family at about half-past twelve. “I gratefully accepted”, she writes.

She learns during a phone call on December 8th that Ricky and family will visit her for tea on the following day and that:

They had received a very exciting surprise on Saturday!  The Prince and Princess of Wales had made an unscheduled visit to Slimbridge and only Ricky and one other man were there and they were out in the Grounds when the Prince phoned Beverly!  When the Prince and Princess arrived, it was Ricky who showed them round and took them to the hides.  A very nice experience for Ricky…

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

Well, the account is slightly inaccurate.  The visit was not unscheduled, but it is true that owing to the absence of “higher ranking” staff at the Wildfowl Trust on that day, it had been arranged that Prince Charles would personally phone Beverly’s number to confirm the time of his arrival.  And indeed, it was me who pointed out and explained to the Royal Couple the significance of the birds to be seen from one of the observation towers.  Princess Diana, it turned out, was not very interested in picking out a party rare Bean Geese within the flock of White-fronted Geese but she did try to playfully push Charles into a ditch as they made their way to the Holden Tower!

Rick, Beverly and Tom visit The Ridge for tea next day, as promised, and old toys from Barry and Jane’s childhood are dug out from a cupboard, Gran saying, “the little old wooden train was much appreciated” by Tom.  Gran clearly loves his company, writing on the following day when the family visits again, that:

Tom, bless him, remembered the little train and asked for it but there was no time, as Ricky wanted to start home early in view of the fog and road conditions.  Instead, Tom jumped into imaginary water and laughed aloud with great enjoyment when I pretended to be splashed!

Snow is forecast for the Christmas period and Gran writes on December 19th, “I do not feel very optimistic about getting up to Longton next Wednesday, I am afraid”.  More snow falls next morning and Gran has:

A frustrating morning as the gas in the oven refused to come on and I waited an hour after lighting the pilot and then abandoned the idea of a roast joint for dinner.  I suppose so many people were cooking things for Christmas but we never had any trouble before we were burdened with “natural gas”.  We had eggs and bacon with baked beans and mashed potato and were thankful that we had this.

More snow falls.  “All hope of going to Longton tomorrow has, of course, disappeared”, she writes despondently:

… and I am utterly downhearted though I know others have suffered real tragedy.  Ruth came in and said that if we were unable to go away, we were to go and join her family for Christmas dinner!  If an example of good neighbourliness were needed, here it is.

“Christmas is going to be a happier time than I expected”, exclaims Gran on Christmas Eve.  This is because not only have the Kingstons invited her and Grampa for Christmas dinner; she is to go to Tommy and Bob Fowler’s on Boxing Day; Barry and family are planning to spend a few days with her shortly after that, and she receives news from Julian and Sue that, “I am to be a Great Granny again!”

1982

January 6th:

I walked up to the Club this afternoon and, past the Lake, had a Barney with a young fisherlad who said in a loud voice as I passed behind him, “This is a fisherman’s path and other people should use the other one!” (Behind the Rhododendrons).  I went back and told him, “No it isn’t.  I made this path fifty-three years ago so that I could watch wildlife on the Lake.”  A man, fishing with the boy and another, was very interested and asked me what it was like all those years ago and said he wished he had known it then.  I told him it was very beautiful then.

The Lake at Hiltingbury and its surrounds were considerably “tamed” in Gran’s later years, much to her dismay.  The “manicuring” and reduction in biodiversity continues there today, with all Lesser-spotted Woodpecker and Firecrest habitat recently cleared. Image by Martoneofmany via Flickr.

Much of the country is still snowbound.  “I wakened to a white world as expected and it has snowed all day with a high wind causing drifting” records Gran, and:

I was surprised to hear Monique Griffin on the phone this morning from next door.  They had arrived at Luton Airport last night from Tunis, where yesterday, they had shopped in the market, wearing only a bikini in Monique’s case, and had left a land of dust, Bedouins and camels, and it was not until they reached the motorway to Winchester that they ran into the snow and a very chilly welcome home!

They reached next door just before four o’clock in the morning to find that they could not get the car up the drive and had to leave it in the carpark opposite.  Later Monique came in and brought me a very nice green, black and white bag, native of Tunis.

Book 197

There is a very heavy frost on the morning of January 11th and Gran is observing birds in the garden, recording her first Bullfinch of the year, which was picking at the Azalea buds – “the first time I have seen one attack this species”, and:

Later in the morning I was looking at what I thought was a particularly bright cock Chaffinch when it flew and revealed the triangular white patch on the rump, which proclaimed it a Brambling, new for the season and the first I have seen for a long time.

A male Brambling – very uncommon in the garden of The Ridge.  Image by caroline legg via Flickr.

January, as always for Gran, is marmalade-making season.  She prepares oranges and makes fifteen pounds of it on the 13th, which she says, “set well”, and then:

I started knitting mittens for the V.G. Manageress after she said her hands were so terribly cold filling the shelves this morning.  I finished the left hand one this evening for her to try tomorrow.

And the next day:

The mitten is a great success and when I went to ask before starting the other, it was already being worn and Mrs Luffmann came over later to tell me it was perfect.

Sad news arrives on January 19th:

… a letter from Sylvia Haines, of Fordingbridge, giving me the news that my dear old friend Phoebe Yule had died just before Christmas.  She was just on eighty years old and had been in a home and failing for some years, and mentally of late, which is very sad when one remembers all the work she did on “The Flora of Hampshire”, which does not progress under its new authors as it did with her.

According to the notification of her death in BSBI News (September 1982) Phoebe Yule was eighty-seven years old.

“This afternoon”, she writes:

I went to the Club and, passing by the Lake, saw the little Wood Duck close in to the shore.  We were entertained by the Methodist Choir and I was pleased to meet again Analiese Morgan, with whom I used to play Badminton and Tennis.  The whole concert was enjoyable and I specially liked Analiese’s solos – she has a beautiful voice.

The Wood Duck is a female, a relatively dull little bird in comparison to the drake she recorded on the Lake some years ago, and she notes it there many times over the following weeks, always concerned when she fails to locate it and relieved whenever it is re-found.

Gran became very fond of “her little Wood Duck” while it frequented Hiltingbury Lake.  Image by DaPuglet (Tina) via Flickr.

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Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 160) Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 173) Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 174) Joan Adelaide Goater - her journal about Chandler's Ford.Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 180) Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 181)
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