Good views of Siskins; 1950’s baby transport; Fallow Deer in the Forest; Robin Eastwood – a “kindred spirit” and “an exceedingly nice young man”; a bird-call mystery solved; Tom Jenkins in the flesh, and Barry’s career is secured.
On March 10th 1954, Gran records her first good views of Siskins, the little finch that in later years became a familiar visitor to garden bird feeders:
This afternoon I took Julian for a walk, going first into Cranbury to get some moss for a bowl which I wanted to arrange for Mary’s birthday today. I was sorry to see that much clearing was taking place in Cranbury Park and many birch trees have been felled.
As I reached the point in Hocombe Road where the water runs through the Cranbury wall, and under the road, I heard a small sweet song and melodious chatter which I knew was new to me and on looking up into an alder tree I perceived several small birds which I knew instantly were Siskins though this was my first really good view of them. They were picking the catkins, which were very prolific, and they were difficult to detect. I had a particularly good view of one cock, the yellow-green plumage and black crown being quite outstanding. They were dainty, attractive little birds and their song charming.
I arranged Mary’s flowers after tea – Sallow, Foetid Hellebore, Cyclamineus, Iris stylosa, Primula wanda, many shades of Primroses, Violets, Yew in bloom and Honeysuckle just bursting into leaf. They looked beautiful.
It is March 16th before Gran’s shoulder receives its last treatment. She has made many trips for therapy to Southampton over the last few weeks, and she writes:
In spite of the fact that I am still unable to raise my arm straight above my head or put it behind myback, he [the doctor] said that I need to have no more treatment and that it will “settle down” – by June, at any rate. I hope he is right!
Brother Norris and Gran lead a BENA field meeting to Buckler’s Hard and the New Forest on the 20th. Barry and Jock also go, with Julian, but these are the days before the convenience of knapsack-like baby-carriers – and baby-seats and booster seats for cars, let alone seat belts, were unimagined in those days – but they need something in which to transport the baby. Gran tells us that:
…after frantically trying to manufacture a carrying device for Julian, which was unsuccessful, we decided to try in Shirley “en route” for a canvas carry-chair. We were unable to get one of these but we obtained a “Prammock”. An amazing contraption which looked for all the world like an outsize string bag with wooden handles, but which was an extraordinary success. In the meantime Julian slept peacefully in my arms until we reached Beaulieu Heath.
I well remember this strange article; I think it spent most of its life in use as a laundry bag.
The field meeting, which included a contingent from Guildford, does not seem to have produced anything unusual, and certainly Gran yet again fails in her hope to see the elusive Dartford Warbler. She and Norris were always particularly fond of the Forest’s deer, and she relates the following with clear pleasure:
Suddenly Jock and Brother, who were carrying Julian a little in advance of Barry and me, stopped, and from their attitude, we knew they were watching something. We raised our binoculars and, just as Barry said, “Look! a Fallow Deer”, it moved and I saw it too. It had stopped suspiciously on the edge of the path – a buck – its head lifted and antlers in full view.
Gran’s late March entries concentrate on the wonders of the burgeoning Spring – nesting resident birds; the first Chiffchaff; flowering plants and drumming woodpeckers. However, there is excitement on the 30th, Gran relating that she:
…found Jock here in a state of great excitement and agitation. A letter had arrived for Barry from Dr Taylor, Headmaster of the Haberdashers’ Aske’s Hampstead School, to whom Barry had written on Sunday about a post as Biology Master, with ability to help with Sport and Corps. The letter invited Barry to an interview tomorrow afternoon and Jock was wondering how to contact him in time since he is at Uxbridge this week undergoing training in running. In the end she wrote to the Headmaster explaining the difficulties of letting Barry know in time and asking for another appointment if he failed to appear tomorrow, and I scrambled a note to Barry enclosing a copy of the Headmaster’s letter in case other means failed – the post was almost due out.
These letters safely posted we turned to more rapid methods of communication and Jock decided to phone the Uxbridge RAF station. Luck was with her and she was able to speak to Barry himself…so now, if he can get away, he will be able to keep the appointment, and we can only pray for his success and hope for the best. Somehow I feel that he may be too young for the appointment as Biology Master in such a school…
Gran writes that she “is in a state of anxiety” owing to the communication difficulties, and this is increased, as:
Jane comes home from Eastbourne for the Easter vacation and Robin Eastwood…is bringing her in his car. He has taken her out each weekend since their first meeting and, mother-like, I wonder…….
Her entry for March 31st begins, “What a day! But what a wonderful climax! But, to begin at the beginning…” She spends the morning in mundane pursuits; shopping and observing local nature, including the calling of a Lesser Spotted Woodpecker in Park Road but also in almost continuous silent prayer, concerning Barry’s interview. Then:
At about half past six I heard “Augustus” slowing up at the gate and Jane and Robin were soon at the door. I need not have felt anxious! After helping Jane in with her luggage Robin was soon quite at home, and I was delighted to find that he was interested I my collection of books illustrated by Arthur Rackham. In fact he said it was one of the best collections he had ever seen, and was certainly in the finest condition. The books are now very valuable, particularly the signed de luxe editions. Robin, we also discovered, is interested in flower arrangement and had won several prizes for his own work in this line. In fact, he is quite a kindred spirit.
Sunset was partially obscured and rain was falling again when Robin left for Winchester where he was spending the night. He had only been gone half an hour and we were clearing up in the kitchen when we heard Barry’s familiar “whoop” in the garage and the door burst open. One look at him was enough, but when he said, “How do you fancy your son as a Master at Haberdashers?” we fell upon him, scarcely able to keep the tears back. Yes, it was true! Barry had been appointed Biology Master, to work with Dr Savory, the expert on spiders, whom he already knew by reputation…We plied him with questions (and some food, of which, I think, he tasted little) and then sent him off with our blessing and many congratulations to tell Jock the good news.
“It was very late when I retired”, writes Gran, “utterly worn out with anxiety and emotion, but with a thankful heart, for my dearest hopes for Barry are at last reaching fulfilment…”
“This afternoon”, she continues on April 1st:
Robin came to take Jane for a drive and I received one of the pleasantest surprises of my life. He and I had discussed Arthur Rackham’s illustrations yesterday and he had asked me if I had Anthony Hope’s “Dolly Dialogues” , llustrated by Rackham, one of his earliest works. I had not. After a few moments of conversation this afternoon, whilst Jane was getting ready to go out, Robin said to me, “Oh! Excuse me. I have something for you”, and hurried down to his car. When he returned he handed me a small book saying, “I am sorry it is not a better copy to put with your other beautiful ones”. He had bought me “Dolly Dialogues”, an 1894 edition, for which he must have searched in Winchester this morning. I have seldom been more touched, but he waved aside my thanks, protesting that it was nothing. I shall always treasure it and remember, even if his friendship with Jane develops into nothing deeper.
As Robin leaves that evening, he promises to take Jane back to Eastbourne on the 22nd, and Gran invites him to lunch with them that day, noting, “We could not allow him to come all this way just to act as chauffeur to her! I noticed that “Augustus” is a Talbot – ancient but still efficient”.
Book 43
I remember that a regular part of Gran’s social life, at least during the 1970s was the whist drive, and she has started mentioning taking part in these occasionally in 1954. She was a canny player, and frequently returns home with a prize, such as, on April 9th, when “I was lucky and won 2nd Ladies’ Prize, an enchanting blue biscuit tin with little Walt Disney figures on it, which I propose to give to Julian”.
Barry, when home on leave from Rudloe Manor, sometimes runs his moth trap in the garden of The Ridge, as on the 11th, recording Early Thorn for the first time that year, and attracting Clouded Drab, Early Grey, and Small and Twin-spotted Quakers, and Gran adds:
Barry has solved the mystery of the strange bird cry, which we have from time to time heard at night. It occurred this evening and Barry said, “incredible as it may seem, it is uttered by a Moorhen in flight” (he had seen and heard one at dusk one night). It is quite unlike any usual cry of this species.
Much general local bird news is recorded at this time, particularly as the usual Spring migrants arrive, but also the activities of residents, including Hawfinch and Lesser Spotted Woodpeckers displaying and breeding in Cranbury Park. There is still an avian winter visitor present when Barry and Jock attempt to photograph a recently discovered nest there, Gran recording:
Barry and Jock had been unable to take a photograph of the Mallard’s nest because there were other people about and they did not want to betray its whereabouts. Barry was, however, delighted to have seen a male Brambling in full summer plumage – most unusual this! It is mainly a Winter visitor, and has only been reported to have nested in Sutherland in 1920 and to have bred in Perthshire, Ross and Inverness.
This last information gleaned by Gran from her new Popular Handbook of British Birds.
A moderate musical highlight for Gran takes place on April 20th. She writes:
This evening I realized one of my lesser ambitions – I heard and saw Tom Jenkins playing his violin! Jane and I went to Southampton Guildhall where he was giving a concert with Jack Byfield at the piano and Richard Standen, a bass singer. Of course, a tenor would have made the programme perfect for me, but it was Tom Jenkins I had come to hear and his playing was beyond even my expectations.
The programme includes works by Dvorak, Mendlessohn, Liszt, Handel and Bazzani, and Gran writes that, “It was a lovely experience and one that I shall always remember”. Of Tom Jenkins she says:
I enjoyed watching his beautiful hands almost as much as listening to his music. He is taller than I expected and, when bowing to the applause, appeared to fold up suddenly as though the noise had dragged him back to his immediate surroundings as he lowered his violin.
Jane’s Easter break comes to an end and, on April 22nd:
Robin Eastwood came to lunch since he had generously offered to come and take Jane back to Eastbourne. He was wearing a beautiful dusky-mauve carnation in his buttonhole and “Augustus”, he told me, had been specially polished up for the occasion. He is an exceedingly nice young man…
After squeezing Jane’s bicycle, as well as her great trunk, suitcase and sports bag into the car, they left for Eastbourne soon after half-past two this afternoon, since Robin had to be in London by seven o’clock this evening.
Gran frequently takes Julian for walks, giving his oft-parted Mum and Dad valuable time alone together. The grassy area around the Otterbourne Water Tower is a favourite destination because the short turf is easy for a 13-month-old to walk upon.
He runs about also, on the short turf at the Montefiore Ground at Swaythling on May 1st, amongst track-suited students, where Southampton University Sports was taking place. Gran recounts an incident there that amuses her:
Barry was wearing his university blazer and scarf and once, when holding Julian by the hand, he said, “Let’s go and find Mummy shall we?”. A gentleman passing by and thinking Barry was a student and Julian was lost, said, “Do you know his Mummy?” To which Barry, much amused, replied, “I ought to. I’m his Daddy!”
We are reminded of Gran’s underlying unhappiness later that day, something she writes about less often than she first did, when she writes:
I went to see Mary early this evening…I needed the refreshment of spirit with which she always provides me after a somewhat exacting week, details of which are best forgotten and so have no place in this book. It was raining steadily when I left – the first rain for twenty-five days.
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)
Mike Sedgwick says
Another interesting post. I was prompted to look again at Arthur Rackham’s pictures. They all convey a sense of a story moving on, no still life here, these pictures seem to move.
The Hampshire and Isle of Wight Wildlife Trust adopted the Dartford Warbler as their mascot. Few of the members had ever seen one.