Evergreen Autumn 2014

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Vol.30 No.3 AUTUMN 2014

Morning Hope The present moment’s stony path, The obstacles it holds, The troubled waters dark and deep, The doubts the hour unfolds.

The daunting shadows of the dusk Recede as night departs And morning’s sweet redeeming light Gives hope back to the heart.

GILLIAN WALSH

QUARTERLY

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A Miscellany of This & That & Things Gone By AUTUMN 2014 04/08/2014 15:56

Contents

Autumn 2014

God’s Glories . . . . . . N.R. Spencer 4 Rural Rides . . . . . . . Chris Franks 12 Famous Names in Football . . Alan Robinson 17 Countrycall . . . . . . Bruce Mawdesley 18 Evergreen Melodies . . . Stephen R. Beet 20 Percy’s Postbag . . . . . Percy Bickerdyke 26 Then & Now . . . . . . Henry Spencer 32 The Literary Pilgrim . . . . Roberta Grieve 34 Gleanings . . . . . . . . B.H. Elvy 38 The Village Harvest Festival . . . Richard Dix 42 Halting the Invasion . . . Dene Bebbington 44 Whatever Happened to...? . . .

Angeline Wilcox 50 A Trip to Coleton Fishacre, Devon

. . . . . . . Julie Newman 52 Bookworm . . . . . . .

Stephen Garnett 56 TV Memories . . . . . . Peter Worsley 58 Rib-Ticklers . . . . . . . . . . .

— 62 Feast of Family Favourites . . .

Angeline Wilcox 64 The RAF’s Eagle Squadrons .

Derek Threadgall 68 Hey Diddle Diddle! . . . Charles Meredith 72 Amanda Hodges 76 Cinemagic . . . . . . .

Castles & Cottages . . . M. Boulton/L. Main 82 Almanac . . . . . . . .

Kath Garner 84 Home Town . . . . . . .

David McVey 88 From the Deputy Editor’s Desk . Angeline Wilcox 94 Clippings . . . . .

Letters to the Editor 96 The Coracle Champion . . . Claire Barnes 108 The Evergreen Prayer . . . . Justin Minns 113 Hit Parade . . . . . . . . Bill Baxter 114 Juke Box . . . . . . . . . Bill Baxter 118 Byways . . . . .

Seren Evans-Charrington 122 The Past in Colour . . . . . . . .

— 125 Raise a Glass . . . . . . Stuart Millson 126 Scrapbook . . . . . . . . . . .

— 130 Bookshelf . . . . . . Henry Hardcastle 134 Morning Hope . . . . . . Gillian Walsh 148 Front Cover: It’s a thumbs-up from him! All the fun of the DAVID TUCKER fair at the Goodwood Revival in Sussex.

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EVERGREEN

The Evergreen Prayer

Hour of Need

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God help the world In this its hour of need God help all men to Gain their sanity.

A white dove is held In the palm of your Hands.

The brutal wars of man Are born in greed.

Sweet peace spread white Wings.

Over all the land!

God help the world in This its hour of need.

MERYL TOOKARAM

Sunset over poppy fields in Suffolk.

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JUSTIN MINNS

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EVERGREEN Autumn

hen today’s grannies were in their teens or twenties, office life was totally different from the way it is today.

Nowadays, there appears to be a machine to perform almost every business task. In the absence of modern technology, the sheer physical and mental effort required of that earlier generation of office workers seems remarkable.

Gone now are the row-uponrow of typists, their nimble fingers hammering out letters and invoices on the keyboards of manual

machines. In very large firms, where the number of typists ran into hundreds, typing departments (or “pools”) were accommodated in separate rooms, where the noise they created would not disturb other office workers.

Long forgotten are those flimsy sheets of carbon paper used for making copies and which, if you were not careful, always managed to stain your fingers. Lost in time, no doubt, is the memory of those circular, black-edged erasers, that so frequently smudged, rather than removed your typing errors.

Strict discipline was the order of the day in the typing department, where young women sat at desks arranged in rows and all facing the same way — as if they were back at school — to discourage conversation.

Take a Letter

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An office of yesteryear. Nimble fingers and noise were necessary in the typing pool, which was staffed by row-upon-row of typists.

Anyone seen to be wasting time by gossiping risked a ticking-off from the woman supervisor, who also checked the work and ensured the required daily output was achieved.

Shorthand was an essential skill for a secretary, or personal assistant as she is now more likely to be called. Equally important was the ability to touch-type, which involved reading back one’s shorthand notes whilst simultaneously typing at high speed, without the need to look at the typewriter keyboard.

The layout of the letters was quite different to today’s where everything is aligned to the left of the paper. The convention then was to put the date on the right-hand side, the reference, together with the name and address of the recipient on the left, with the words “For the

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attention of” centred and underlined, below the salutation “Dear Sir”.

Every new paragraph was indented five spaces and, at the end of the letter, “Yours faithfully” had to appear exactly in the centre of the page.

In those days, when computers were unknown, preparing an identical letter to be sent to hundreds of different people was a major task that could involve the typing pool in many hours, or days, of extra work. Now, the job can be done in a fraction of the time using mail-merge software on a computer. Similarly, modern office workers have spreadsheets for figure work, a timesaving facility that was unknown to their predecessors.

With paper still in short supply after the war, it was considered

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Autumn

The Village Harvest Festival To the tune of “We Plough The Fields and Scatter”

We plough the fields and scatter, or so the good songs tell, And at the Harvest Festival the church is looking well, The pews and pulpit shining, the brass-work all agleam, From elbow grease aplenty, and cans of Mr. Sheen.

All good gifts around us are sent from Heaven above, Then thank the Lord, oh thank the Lord for all His love.

The local WI have all done us proud once more, With chutneys, jams and marmalades stacked three-deep on the floor, Whilst those who can’t or won’t cook are not left out it seems, There’s wine there by the bottle and tins of Heinz Baked Beans.

All good gifts etc.

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The local kids bring boxes of apples, pears and plums, Then stand there scrubbed, in Sunday finest, winking at their chums, The vicar smiles with pleasure at such a bounteous sight, Not knowing they were scrumped from his orchard late last night.

All good gifts etc.

A feast of peas and carrots, beans, onions, swedes and beet, Surround the baker’s loaf that’s shaped just like a sheaf of wheat, Amid the cakes and pies and a full ham on the bone, The vicar’s got his eye on a vintage Côtes du Rhône.

All good gifts etc.

The ladies sing out boldly and give it all they’ve got, Though surreptitiously glance round to see who’s wearing what, The men-folk, unaccustomed to wearing Sunday gear, Can’t wait ‘til they’re released and can get off for a beer.

All good gifts etc.

Now with the service over, amidst the harvest hoard, Those thankful songs made all feel good and touched an ancient chord, Through scorching sun and wind and through winters, cold and grim.

We grew it all ourselves, with a little help from Him.

All good gifts etc.

RICHARD DIX

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Autumn

HALTING THE INVASION

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n a recent visit to the village of Brinkworth, in Wiltshire, I noticed a line of three concrete cylinders by the road bridge which runs over a brook. These apparently random objects are just some of the remnants of Britain’s last lines of defence that were hastily built in the Second World War.

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After the British Expeditionary Force’s evacuation from Dunkirk in 1940, and the loss of much equipment, there was a real threat that the Germans would invade our island. Luckily, their plan named Operation Sealion was never put into action, not least because they failed to gain air superiority in what

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EVERGREEN

Left: A Type 24 pillbox on the Dauntsey Road at Great Somerford.

ROGER DAVIES

became known as the Battle of Britain.

Winston Churchill tasked General Ironside, Commander-in-Chief of the Home Forces, to organise the defences. The aim was to hinder and slow down German armoured divisions which had been successful in France. This may have given defence forces time to deploy scarce tanks. Inland these defences were known as “stop lines�, three of which ran through Wiltshire.

The colour coded lines that passed through parts of Wiltshire were

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Red, Blue and Green. Their routes used natural and artificial parts of the landscape such as rivers, canals, railway embankments and cuttings.

Also, many miles of anti-tank ditches were dug.

Stop Line Green, also known as the Bristol Outer Defences, formed an arc of about 100 miles from Highbridge on the Bristol Channel to Upper Framilode on the River Severn. Its purpose was to defend Bristol and its port. This stop line passes through several towns and villages in the county, the most visible remains being pillboxes.

Though the War Office had standard designs for pillboxes,

Three of the stop lines ran through Wiltshire. GLOUCESTERSHIRE SOCIETY FOR INDUSTRIAL ARCHAEOLOGY

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GRAHAM GOUGH

A Trip to Coleton Fishacre, Devon

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he sun was shining, so my husband and I decided to make the most of it and pay a visit to Coleton Fishacre near Kingswear in Devon. This was the home of the D’Oyly Carte family of Gilbert and Sullivan fame, now in the care of the National Trust.

It had been 20 years since our last visit. When we arrived we were told by the cheerful guide that they had opened up a lot more rooms in the house, and we looked forward to exploring.

But first we needed refreshment, so we went along to the tea room to find this bigger and much improved.

Well-organised staff produced our delicious coffee, fruit scone and apple cake. We took our tray out to

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the spacious patio where pale green wicker chairs and tables sat happily amongst the wooden picnic tables. I took out my sunglasses and sat back to enjoy the experience.

Refreshed, we made our way to the house. We stepped inside the porch and were greeted with more sunny smiles and instantly transported back in time.

What a treat it was to browse around the Art Nouveau and Art Deco furniture. There were original plate glass ceiling up-lighters suspended by metal tassels in every room.

We were advised of one dressing room where the visitors were encouraged to try on some of the clothes, gloves and hats. The

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CHRISTOPHER NICHOLSON

wardrobe contained a fur stole and a silk dressing gown and I was immediately taken back to my grandmother’s bedroom. Nostalgia reigned. There were powder compacts and jars of cream on the dressing table, glove stretchers and curling tongs that used to be heated on the gas. I put on a long black glove and exclaimed, “Very Downton Abbey!” The woman next to me agreed. Standing in the hearth was an electric fire in the shape of a yacht, the sails fashioned from stainless steel. What a novelty!

Downstairs in the dining room, so many things transported me back to my past: the crockery, the hand-embroidered cloth on the tea table, the gramophone in the corner. Although a bit before my time, I could imagine Fred Astaire

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walking around in the sitting room.

A cigarette case containing Sobranie cocktail cigarettes in pastel colours stood open on the desk. These were just like the ones my parents smoked at Christmas, in the Fifties. Emotion galloped through my veins.

Through the large window was a view of the extensive gardens which I had to go and explore. These are very beautiful and range from well-planted terraces near the house, down to the wilder gradients towards the sea. We picked our way along the steep uneven paths through the wooded gardens ending at the South West Coast Path. This was closed off as there had been a landslip. We stood looking out to a very misty sea, just a faint outline of horizon and a solitary yacht in the distance. It must have been such fun to be part of this

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ome things are indelibly firmly back in the spotlight as a British. And despite his major film (starring Nicole Kidman, origins in Darkest Peru, in the Hugh Bonneville et al) chronicling 50-plus years since first appearing Paddington’s adventures is being in print in 1958, Paddington Bear scheduled for a pre-Christmas release. has certainly become something Produced by David Heyman of Harry of a national institution, a figure Potter renown, the film will be taking beloved by children and adults alike us back to the very beginning when as his genial author a small bear arrives Michael Bond, now Paddington Paddington Bear atStation 88, confirms with a bearing the lovely anecdote. tag “Please Look — Film Star!

“About 20 years After This Bear. ago I had to go to Australia on a Thank You” and is taken home to book signing tour and I had to carry the comfort of Windsor Gardens by a Paddington Bear around with me. the kindly Brown family. Bond grew Every time I got on a plane I was up in Reading and his experience invited up to the flight deck and of seeing evacuees arrive at the it was not because they wanted to beginning of the Second World War meet me but because they wanted directly influenced the use of this to meet Paddington! On one flight memorable image. a message came down: ‘Could In terms of the film’s script Bond Paddington stay up here please as he emphasises that the intention on wants to try landing the plane’ — this occasion was to illuminate and this was from grown men!”

Paddington’s back-story, filling in Paddington Bear has always been some of the gaps left by the original irresistible, his blend of innocence and tales. good faith representing something “People often ask me about timelessly endearing but today he’s Paddington, and his background and

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Michael Bond at home with his perennially popular creation.

so I casually said once that there’d been an earthquake and Aunt Lucy had taken him in.”

But when the producers seemed keen to introduce modern touches to the story that didn’t meet Bond’s vision he vetoed any such potential detours emphatically.

“When Paddington got to Paddington Station in the script they originally wanted Mr. Brown to take him to an immigration centre because he shouldn’t legally be here but I said ‘You can’t do that!’ After all what would you do if you found a bear — you might

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take him to the zoo perhaps or the RSPCA!” Bond himself has a cameo role in the film. But “blink and you’ll miss it!” as he wryly comments.

The filming took place in an empty Charing Cross Station and he had optimistically hoped that since there was only a single line to deliver he would not be needed on set for long.

But as it eventually transpired “We didn’t get back until seven o’clock in the evening. The carriage was packed with people and because they were all part of the scene nobody could leave!”

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The Coracle Champion

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f you were to walk along the River Teifi between the months of April and August, don’t be surprised if you see the rather haunting silhouettes of a pair of fishermen drifting along the still, moonlit waters in small bowl-

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We meet the man who is keeping a great Welsh tradition alive shaped vessels. Despite being an all but obsolete feature of Welsh life, a handful of coracle fishermen remain, fuelled by a common love for the vessel that is now confined to just three main rivers in Wales.

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Karl Chattington carrying his coracle and (above) Bernard Thomas demonstrates how to step into one.

MIKE MAIDMENT

Those associated with the ancient lightweight vessel, designed so that it can be carried on a fisherman’s back, are motivated by a passion to see this old Welsh tradition survive.

But what charm does this ancient vessel hold that inspires such feelings in those that become involved with it? Further to this, is such a passion alone enough to keep the coracle on Welsh waters in the face of decreasing numbers of licences issued and hostility from other sectors of the fishing world?

Karl Chattington more than understands the admiration and devotion that the coracle invokes and admits freely that it is a love that has taken over his life.

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“It’s the reason that I’m single again,” he laughs. “I make coracles at home, and my house is damp.”

But Karl is far from regretful over the sacrifices he has made for the vessel.

“It’s what I do, it’s part of me,” he attests, speaking at The Heart of the Valley Show in Pontardawe, whilst standing next to his own coracle which he uses on the River Teifi.

Karl became involved with coracle fishing in 1974 at the age of 17. He had just seen coverage of Bernard Thomas of Llechryd crossing the English Channel from Kent to France.

“I saw it on the television and was immensely impressed,” he remembers, “and so I went down

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Autumn

Hit Parade Singers & Songs from the Sixties & Seventies

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ver the years the world of popular music has not been without its fair share of tragedies, many of which, it has to be said, were self-inflicted. The man I am writing about in this issue was another who passed away before his time, but he was struck down by a cruel illness over which he had no control.

Even if you don’t know much about him, you’ll probably have heard his beautiful Top Ten hit from 1973, “Gaye”. I liked the song so much that, for a few frantic weeks during the 1970s, I became involved in a vinyl treasure hunt in search of his albums and the rest of his compositions. What I found was a body of work which, I believe, makes him one of the

greatest singer-songwriters of the 20th century. They’re all available on CD, so I’d be interested to know if you agree. Drop me a line if you get a moment.

He was born Clifford Thomas Ward on 10th February 1944 in Stourporton-Severn, Worcestershire: a part of England he loved and where he remained, in a number of different locations, all his life. Education at the local Secondary Modern school was followed by a series of clerical jobs, during which time he formed a pop group, Cliff Ward and the Cruisers, which underwent a number of personnel and name changes (Martin Raynor and The Secrets, which became simply The Secrets), and enjoyed quite a following in the area. Do any

Clifford T. Ward

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Clifford T. Ward, the schoolteacher who became a pop star.

Midlanders reading this (if indeed any Midlanders are reading this!) remember them? They made several singles for EMI and CBS, none of which made the charts.

Clifford was only 17 when he married his childhood sweetheart Pat — she was 16. They had four children, Debbie, Polly, Martin and Sam, so he obviously felt he needed a secure job and in 1968 began a three-year teacher training course in Worcester studying English and Divinity. This desire for a settled life was made more important for them by the fact that Debbie suffered from cerebral palsy and was confined to a wheelchair (Clifford later wrote a song, “For Debbie and Her Friends”, highlighting the prejudice that existed against the disabled).

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While teaching at Bromsgrove High School, where one of his pupils was the future “Mrs. Sting”, Trudi Styler, he continued to write songs and make private recordings of them.

His breakthrough came after DJ John Peel (always a champion of young musicians) was given a tape of Clifford’s songs by the producer of his show, John Walters.

A first solo album on Peel’s own Dandelion label ensued. Entitled Singer Songwriter it contained some great songs, but as the record company folded soon after it was released, it didn’t receive the coverage it deserved.

It was after signing for Charisma Records that Clifford reached number eight in the UK charts with “Gaye”. It is a beautiful love song with idiosyncratic lines (“You’re

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or many of us the ding-dong gloves, the slogan appears, “Take of the doorbell signifies that time out for Avon” and a glamorous the Avon lady has come to Avon customer is seen browsing a call with her lotions, potions and selection of Avon cosmetics before perfumes complete with exotic being accompanied in dance by a sounding names such as Night dashing male companion.

Musk, Moon Wind and Charisma.

In another equally glitzy advert of Nowadays, Avon is the 50s an Avon lady sleek and stylish and calls, “Ding-dong” and Ding-dong: a long way from the as she enters the room Avon calling retro Avon that I looking dazzling she remember. swirls around with The iconic “Dingher dress flowing dong” advertising gracefully, before the campaign was scene switches to launched in 1954 show two women and a string of sitting looking over commercials a collection of Avon appeared all of them beauty products with featuring a smartly excitement. In the dressed, elegant background the jingle Avon representative plays “Avon calling at pressing the doorbell your door, bringing which chimed the cosmetics and much two tone, dingmore.” dong. In a 1950s The “Ding-dong, commercial an Avon Avon calling” adverts lady calls wearing a ran until 1967 making pillbox hat and white them one of the

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longest-running television campaigns and one of the most memorable. To this day I still link Avon with the sound of a doorbell and iconic perfumes such as Zanzibar.

In the 1970s the famous doorbell campaign and variations on the “Avon calling” signature phrase were used including “Avon is Christmas calling now”, until in 1976 they struck upon another catchy jingle, “With Avon, you never looked so good”, this was a popular campaign, but never reached the status of its predecessor.

The brand is to be admired for it certainly has staying power with Avon’s origins going back more than 120 years to when David H. McConnell, an American door-to-door salesman, began by giving bottles of scent away with his books as a sales incentive. He soon realised that it was perfumes, not books that his female customers craved.

In 1886 he founded the California Perfume Company, hiring women to sell fragrances door-to-door. Back then the fragrances were a traditional mix that included Violet, Lily-of-theValley, White Rose, Heliotrope and Hyacinth. By 1887, McConnell was

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employing a dozen women to sell his range of 18 perfumes. The California Perfume Company was renamed Avon back in 1939 after he visited Stratford-upon-Avon and fell for its beauty and the first British Avon ladies took to the ringing doorbells with their Avon bags at the ready 20 years later.

The company now sells more fragrances, lipsticks, eye make-up and nail enamels than any other beauty brand in the UK, but for years it was stuck in a middle-aged rut. It suffered a decline in popularity in the 1990s after people started moving away from the brand

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EVERGREEN

BR

AI IT

N

OV 'S L

E LY L I

TTLE GREE

NQ

UA RT E

RL Y

£4

Vol.30 No.3 AUTUMN 2014

Morning Hope The present moment’s stony path, The obstacles it holds, The troubled waters dark and deep, The doubts the hour unfolds.

The daunting shadows of the dusk Recede as night departs And morning’s sweet redeeming light Gives hope back to the heart.

GILLIAN WALSH

QUARTERLY

1 Front Cover autumn 2014.indd 1

A Miscellany of This & That & Things Gone By AUTUMN 2014 04/08/2014 15:56