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Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 99)

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Editor’s note: Rick, next week you’ll reach the milestone of ‘part 100’ in this totally breathtaking series. We can’t wait! Thank you.

Flowers for an hour’s work; the Salmon put on a show; The Grand under threat; rotting bananas; tears at Compton; two excellent lectures; Lord Montagu’s Eel; a new Church for Hiltingbury; postage stamps for Southampton; Gran’s “Marsh Warblers” discussed, and a complete list of Christmas presents.

We discover the name of another local shopkeeper on October 7th 1959, when Gran explains that the butcher in the village (who also runs a market garden) says to her, “You have some experience of flowers don’t you?” and asks her to show him and his wife how to pack an order of over thirty dozen Chrysanthemums for the Queen Elizabeth in Southampton Docks. Payment for her services is pressed upon Gran by Mrs Olsen but having been given ”a dozen most beautiful bronze Chrysanthemums”, Gran tells her that this is ample payment for an hour of enjoyable work, so she is given another half dozen deep pink ones, Mrs Olsen saying she would hate Gran to think her mean.

“Payment enough” for Gran. Image by Martin LaBar via Flickr.

On the following day, Gran writes:

Later this afternoon I went to record my vote in the General Election and then sat in with Ruth and Anne whilst the Hockridges went, taking Mother in their car with them.

Gran and “Mother” would surely have voted Conservative, and been pleased with the result, Harold Macmillan’s Conservatives being returned with a majority of 101 seats over Hugh Gaitskell’s Labour Party.

Gran records the minimum and maximum temperatures, and rainfall every single day, and on October 11th, a day of rain, she sums up, presumably from the newspaper, that Summer’s weather, including: the driest since records began; 7.5 inches of rain in the five months May to September – the least ever recorded in that period; only in 1911 was there more sunshine.  On September 21st, thirty-seven days of drought ended at Kew, the longest registered since records began, in 1871.

October 20th:

I had to go to Southampton this morning, primarily to take my watch in to be repaired, and, whilst there, I signed the petition against the demolition of Southampton’s only live theatre, The Grand, at which, in the past, I have seen many splendid plays and some of our best-known actors and actresses. To name only a few: Fred Terry, Julia Nielson, Phyllis Neilson-Terry, Dennis Neilson-Terry, Matheson Lang, Nelson Keys…

And she names a further nine, saying, “How one misses them!”

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

Earlier in the month, Gran and John Gunningham had cycled together to the New Forest and Buckler’s Hard.  A letter arrives, “from John Gunninghan today”, which:

…brought me several interesting photographs which he took during our day at Beaulieu and Buckler’s Hard [including] one of me, which John took without my knowledge, and which he describes as “in characteristic pose”.  Needless to say, I have notebook and pencil in hand, and am sitting on the ground with my back against the trunk of a pine tree!

And here it is:

At Buckler’s Hard, October 3rd 1959.  Joan Goater “in characteristic pose”.

Gran reads in the Echo that the Salmon are leaping the weir at Sadler’s Mill, Romsey, and she cycles there on October 25th, where huge crowds have gathered.

The fish put on what Gran calls, “the best exhibition I have seen”, and, reading the Echo on the following evening, she reports:

…a record crowd of 250 people per hour viewing the Salmon at Sadler’s Mill yesterday, and, apparently, after I left so great became the crowd that parking became a problem and police patrols were called out to control it. The Salmon “run” is expected to continue for a fortnight.

November 7th sees her at Dibden Bay with Peg Eagle, seeing much the same set of autumn birds as usual but the day is particularly memorable because of the smell.  “After lunch”, she writes:

…we walked on along the new sea-wall again.  At one point the stench from rotting bananas, which were dumped last year during a strike, was almost overwhelming and I felt unable to breathe.  It was bad enough last year but now was quite unbelievable!

Next day it is Remembrance Sunday, and Gran makes her way, as usual, to Compton Church, where she finds the Service even more emotive than usual, and she writes this:

Members of the British Legion were in Church, wearing their medals, and their banner rested on the Altar during the Service.  The Rector himself, formerly a Naval Chaplain, was wearing seven medals and after the Service there was an incident which greatly increased my respect and admiration for him.  As we left the Church, the Sexton stopped us by the path near the little Garden of Remembrance, where crosses had been put in, and the Rector stood to pray for those who had given their lives.  Suddenly he faltered and I was amazed to see tears falling and his face crumpled with grief.  He mastered his emotion to finish the prayer, turned to bow to the old soldiers assembled there and then fled back into the Church.  It was one of the most moving experiences of my life.

I am glad that Gran found respect and admiration for Rev. George Fawkes. He remained in his post at Compton until 1973, and died in 1990.  His wife died in 2017 at the age of 103 and they were clearly a remarkable couple.

Feeling saddened by the whole Remembrance experience, and, she says, with no-one at home, Gran is pleased to be invited back for tea with an old school friend; Kay Hill.

November 10th:

For several days the presence of a few acorns in the front porch has mystified us and this morning the mystery was solved.  A Fieldmouse, or perhaps two, has been collecting them near to a hole under the doorstep, which has been enlarged to allow the acorns to be carried or pushed inside the foundations for a Winter store.  Once or twice in a quiet evening I have heard slight noises in the porch which I now realize were acorns rolling about, but I have not the heart to remove the fruits of the small creatures’ nightly labours, so this morning I pushed them close under the step, hoping no-one else will notice them!

The Harding twins are growing up!  “This afternoon”, Gran says on the 11th:

…I went to see my Harding family, after painting another Christmas card, and found all well.  A hint of Romance was provided by the delivery of red roses for Jill.  It does not seem possible that one of the twins has reached the age when Dan Cupid lies in wait to catch her!

Twelve pages record the details of a lecture, arranged by Hampshire Field Club and the British Trust for Ornithology, which Gran attends at Southampton University on the 14th.  It is entitled “Bird Migration and the Weather”, and delivered by Mr R. K. Cornwallis.  Many conflicting theories are discussed, involving weather patterns, air temperatures, wind directions, the use of planetaria, the visibility of the moon and stars, the position of the setting sun, the role of increasing or decreasing day-length and the value of bird-ringing.

Gran must have made notes constantly during the lecture, and she mentions the names of many of the well-known migration researchers of the day, including Professor Geoffrey Matthews, who interviewed me for my first position with the Wildfowl Trust.  She leaves the talk with “…much food for thought and wonder, and I, for one, with an even deeper admiration for my avian friends and a more tremendous reverence for their Creator”.  She is home late, but rises early to record the dawn chorus for the Glanton Bird Research Station.

Book 83

November 18th:

I had to go to the Doctor at Bassett this morning so I took the opportunity afterwards of going down to Southampton General Post Office to purchase some sets of stamps issued today.  It is a limited issue, being for the Southampton area only, and the eight stamps bear, in addition to the graphite lines on the backs, phosphor ones on the fronts, which are invisible except in certain lights.  The stamps are for use with a special sorting machine, of which Southampton is, at present, the only possessor.  I sent a set, in a first-day cover, to Gilbert Whitley, and also bought sets for Jane, Miss Thorpe, of Pakistan, and of course, myself.

“Stars were shining, though there was slight mist, later in the evening”, Gran notes:

…when I went to the Dedication Service of the site of the new Church at Hiltingbury.  It is to be built in Queen’s Road and to be called St Martin-in-the-Wood, and will be of unusual design, convertible into a hall by the intervention of a sliding partition across the nave.  The main East window will be in the form of a cross.  A foundation stone from St Martin-in-the-Fields, London, has been promised.  It is hoped to complete building by March, and the Church will serve the now enlarged Hiltingbury population of two thousand!

She arrives early, is joined by Mary and Antony Harding, and finds the site floodlit, with a television camera ready to record the event, the Dedication being performed by the Bishop of Southampton, the Right Reverend K. E. N. Lamplugh.  She continues:

…and the Service opened with the singing of the hymn “All people who on Earth do dwell”, and prayers; and a lesson, the eighty-fourth psalm, “O how amiable are thy dwellings” followed.  After the hymn, “We love the place, O God”, came the Bishop’s address.  How impressive he looked in this unusual setting!

A press-cutting describing the Dedication.

She describes the scene and Service in some detail, and includes this:

The Bishop’s Pastoral Staff was of special interest and he mentioned it particularly, since it had been given to him by a shepherd in Kent and was a real shepherd’s crook.  He was using it for the first time this evening – a fitting occasion – the dedication of the woodland site of a country Church.

During the singing of the hymn before the Blessing… a cat, like a grey shadow, strolled across in front of the Bishop, across whose face a tiny smile flickered, and a moth, possibly a Mottled Umber, flitted into the beam of the floodlight, and settled, for a brief moment, on the gleaming white surplice of the Vicar of Chandler’s Ford, the Rev. Green.

I hoped, most fervently, that enough trees would be left around our new Church to justify its name…

Attempting, but without success, to buy two more sets of the phosphor-lined stamps in Southampton on November 26th, Gran records that:

…today is the centenary of Gilbert’s Book Shop, one which, in old Southampton, (and remembered by me!) was known as “Ye Olde Book Shoppe”, and was just above the Bargate.  Though the Bargate still stands, having withstood all the devilish onslaught of Hitler’s bombers in the War, all the surrounding buildings have been demolished and re-built, and the whole town has lost its character.

An evening talk by Peter Scott, arranged by the New Forest Association, is given in the New Forest Hall in Brockenhurst. Gran and Peg Eagle attend together, and they are entranced by his character:

…a huge roar of applause greeted Peter Scott as he mounted the platform.  And what a very delightful personality he is!  Completely at ease, and talks to his audience with the utmost friendliness and no conceit or overwhelming self-assurance.

As an introduction, and saying how pleased he was to be in the New Forest again, Peter relates the following story:

…about a visit to Beaulieu made when he was about ten years old and he and his mother joined a fishing expedition with the late Lord Montagu.  It was net-fishing and, amongst other things, a record Eel was landed.  It must have weighed about fifteen pounds and was as thick as a man’s hand.  Peter saw the poor thing alive still after about an hour on the bank, and, noticing that it was covered with dirt and grass, thought he would wash it!  With much effort he dragged it to the river again and had almost finished washing it when it gave a little wriggle and was gone!  Poor Lord Montagu – he had spent the last hour bragging about his Eel and now it was lost.  Peter said he always remembers this episode with shame.

It is a wonderful evening of thought-provoking and entertaining talk and wildlife films, which Gran records in some detail over fourteen pages, including this on Peter Scott’s view on wildlife conservation, using the endangered Blue Whale as an example:

It is the largest animal ever known, either now or in prehistoric times… conservation is not so much for the benefit of the animals themselves, for they do not know they are near to extinction, but it is for the enjoyment and pleasure of the human race.  But it is also [the human race’s] responsibility, for our children must not be able to accuse us of allowing rare birds and animals to be exterminated.  Unfortunately at present it has not been possible to get international agreement on the conservation of the Blue Whale, and whaling expeditions are out all the time.

There have been changes in the fortunes of some endangered animals since this time:  the Blue Whale has increased, after a degree of international agreement was reached, but the Eskimo Curlew, whose population Peter says at this lecture, “is holding on and numbering about 200 birds”, will never be seen again.

Numenius borealis. Gone forever. Image by James St. John via Flickr.

On December 2nd, Gran visits her friend Doreen Peters at her bungalow in West Wellow, where, “ Doreen met me at the bus stop and had a glorious fire and warm drink to cheer me on arrival.  I spent a thoroughly lazy day”.  It is true that Gran is busy and active every single day, her “lazy day” being the exception that proves the rule.  And indeed, the very next day, she writes: “Too dark to paint this afternoon but I never have to wonder what to do.  I reached the final stages of the suit I am knitting for Jock, and a few more days should see it finished”.

Barry stays at The Ridge early in December and Gran looks forward to some time with him “in the field”.  December 6th, however, is wet and windy, so they stay indoors and talk.  Family history has it that Gran claimed to have seen two particularly rare warblers, the identification of both, tantalisingly, never fully confirmed.  The first was Marsh Warbler on her Scottish holiday; the second was Melodious Warbler, in Hampshire, and not yet described in her journal.  Concerning the former, she writes of her discussion with Barry:

We thoroughly went into the question of the Marsh Warblers which Fairlie and I think we saw at Loch Alvie in July, and, after I had given him all the details of plumage, song, habitat and behaviour Barry conceded that it really seems possible that we did see these rare visitors.  He advised me to write to George Waterston, the Scottish representative of the R.S.P.B. in the hope that he can confirm our identification or arrange for observations to be made next year in the hope that the birds will return.

The rather non-descript Marsh Warbler. Did Gran and Fairlie discover a new breeding bird for Scotland? Image by Sergey Yeliseev via Flickr.

Marsh Warbler, a widespread summer visitor in continental Europe, in those days bred in very small numbers in the English Midlands, but never in Scotland.  It has since been recorded breeding several times in that country, though not in Speyside. Gran was familiar with Reed Warbler, the most likely confusion species with Marsh Warbler, and, on being played a recording of the distinctive Marsh Warbler song, at one of her Southampton Natural History meetings, only inexperience and her lack of confidence prevented her confirming the species in her own mind.  We shall, perhaps, read what George Waterston thinks of her record in the days that follow.

In the days leading up to Christmas, Gran reports many small happenings in her journal: she finishes Jock’s suit; stamps for her collection are received from Fin Murphy in America, Phyllis Thorpe in Pakistan, and more arrive from South Africa, for Jane; the Christmas cake is iced, “…in pale green, with two red toadstools bearing yellow candles, two little pine trees and a Snowman and Snowbaby in the centre for Julian and Ricky”; a cub makes a good effort of painting deer in a mountain landscape for his Artist Badge, and Gran passes him; she attends the Haberdashers’ Carol Service at St Martin-in-the-Fields, but the crowds are so big afterwards that she fails to locate Barry.  She does, though, note that, “among innumerable students, one girl was wearing scarlet nylon knee socks, and another in long black stockings and a very short skirt”.  The “swinging 60s” are about to begin!  The Fowler’s eldest daughter, Jill, with Dennis and baby Mark fly home from Canada for Christmas, arriving at London Airport on the 19th – we learn that Tommy and Bob’s house in Bassett is called Ilfra.  Barry and family arrive on the 22nd.  And Gran is very busy with wreaths and shipping orders at Fowlers – right up to late on Christmas Eve.

Christmas Day arrives – and the night before Gran has written that she is so tired “that I scarcely knew how to proceed with cooking and preparations for the Festival”.  Indefatigable, she is nevertheless up “at six o’clock for Early Service at Compton, but it was cold”.  After breakfast, Gran and Jane wait for the family to join them “before having our presents round the Christmas Tree”. We learn this year, the full list of presents she receives:

I had some lovely and surprising gifts which included a book on Canadian birds from Jill and Dennis; a little posy bowl in Poole Pottery and a wild flower engagement diary by Emily Sartain from my “Andes” friend, Mrs Rowsell; a gorgeous Nasturtium-shade cardigan from Barry and Jock; a dainty slip from Jane; gloves from my Harding family; the 1960 stamp catalogue from Mother; a mat from Julian, which he had woven himself at school, a little Poole Pottery dish from Ken and Jean; lavender water; table napkins; a gift token and the ever useful cash, with several calendars and innumerable cards!

Everyone was pleased and the sitting-room was nearly knee-deep in wrapping paper, so much so that Ricky suddenly thought his presents were in danger of wandering so he hastily gathered them into a pile and announced that these were his.  Two electrically driven racing cars hummed in the hall whilst dinner preparations were going on and the morning soon passed.

While Julian identifies the source-countries of his stamps on a newly acquired globe, “Ricky”, Gran says:

…was engrossed with farm animals, of which he is inordinately fond, but he had given all his away at Sunday School just before they came down, insisting on doing so in spite of heartbreak at parting with them.  He was delighted to find more among his presents.

Yes!  I had also given away my favourite book, Why are you crying, kangaroo? a present to me by an Australian Aunt.  The Sunday School had been very persuasive about children less fortunate than ourselves.

Julian is unwell next morning, with a high temperature, and his Godfather, Dr White, is called out to attend to him.  He spends the day, and the next, contentedly, in Jane’s bed.

On December 28th, second post brings a letter from George Waterston, on Gran’s query about the unidentified warblers at Loch Alvie.  His reply is not surprising: “He is unable to identify them with certainty but says he will certainly watch the area next year and will let me know if anything transpires.  Not very satisfactory…”. Gran thinks.

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Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 72) Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – A Journal (Part 104) Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 142) Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 152) Forty Years in Chandler’s Ford – a Journal (Part 156)
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  1. This is a simple ‘thank you’ for the regular weekly gift of these memories. I was brought up in Chandler’s Ford, a very long time ago, and the memories of this series are both real and helpful. Thank you!

    Reply

  2. Yes, well done Rick. I’m delighted you are so interested in Gran’s labour of love, and congratulate you on your sensitive editing.

    Dad

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