This England Spring 2015

SPRING 2015 Quarterly £4.75

SPRING 2015

And when you’ve found the tranquil heart Then you will somehow know It surely was the hand of God, Which touched and made it so.

For every form of leaf and flower, Tree, watercourse and stone God made with pleasure, love and care To lead man to His throne.

For all who love our green and pleasant land

Volume Forty Eight Number One

If you would have a tranquil heart And a contented mind Then you must seek out nature’s peace, It is not hard to find; In tree-lined park or country lane, Beside a quiet pool On verdant hill, in forest glade It waits with calm and cool.

THIS ENGLAND

The Tranquil Heart

DOREEN BEER

Magnolias at Caerhays in Cornwall.

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GRAHAM GOUGH

The Historic Homes of England Harvington Hall, Kidderminster, Worcestershire

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ourney three miles to the south-east of Kidderminster and you will discover this splendid example of a moated medieval and Elizabethan manor house. The distinctive, red-brick hall, which stands on the site of a medieval timber house, was built in 1580 by Humphrey Pakington, a Catholic recusant. As a result of Humphrey’s faith, Harvington has the most impressive series of priests’ hiding places in the country. Ingeniously located within the walls of the building these provided safe havens for Catholic priests in England, at a time when they were accused of high treason.

The hall was inherited by Humphrey’s daughter, Mary, Lady Yate, and in 1644 it was pillaged by Roundhead troops.

In 1696, ownership passed to the Throckmorton family of Coughton Court in Warwickshire. They undertook some alterations but, by the 19th century, all the furniture and panelling were removed and it was left in a virtually derelict condition. Fortunately, in 1923 the house was bought for the Roman Catholic Archdiocese of Birmingham and a restoration project began in the 1930s.

Among Harvington’s many fascinating historic treasures is a series of Elizabethan wall paintings. Visitors can also enjoy the delightful gardens surrounded by the moat. There is a packed programme of events for all ages throughout the year. To find out further details and opening times go to www.harvingtonhall.com or telephone 01562 777846.

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Stunning contemporary photographs of people and places

Nostalgic black and white images of yesterday’s Britain �

Much loved Colin Carr pictures...and more!

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Spring 2015 . . . is a quarterly journal published in Spring, Summer, Autumn and Winter, for all who love our green and pleasant land.

Annual subscription rates: (4 quarterly editions, inc. postage and packing): U.K. addresses £19; Overseas addresses £26 (by Airmail) Personal dollar cheques accepted from USA at $48.50 per subscription; Canada $48.50; Australia $53.50; New Zealand $63.50.

Next four UK Publication Dates (approx): Summer 2015: 13th May; Autumn 2015: 12th Aug.; Winter 2015: 4th Nov.; Spring 2016: 10th Feb. Editor: Stephen Garnett Deputy Editor: Angeline Wilcox Assistant Editors: Susan Kelleher, Peter Worsley Media: Edmund Whitehouse Production: Ann Augur, Keren Bowers Music Editor: Percy Bickerdyke Recording Engineer: Eric Holmes Advertising: Bryn Piper Editorial Secretaries: Christine Freeman Angie Mulcahy Head of Publishing: Neil O’Brien

Please note new contact details: Sales/Subscriptions: This England, PO Box 814, Haywards Heath, Sussex RH16 9LQ. Telephone: UK 01382 575052 (Mon-Fri 8am-6pm, Sat 9am-5pm)

Overseas +44 1382 575052 E-mail: s ales@thisengland.co.uk Internet: www.thisengland.co.uk Editorial: This England, The Lypiatts, Lansdown Road, Cheltenham, Gloucestershire, GL50 2JA. Telephone: UK 01242 225780 Overseas +44 (0) 1242 225780 E-mail: e ditor@thisengland.co.uk Articles and photographs submitted for publication must be accompanied by a stamped addressed e­ nvelope for return if unsuitable. Whilst all reasonable care will be taken, the Publishers do not accept responsibility for loss of, or damage to material sent in for consideration. Address all submissions to the Editor at This England’s Editorial Office.

Dating back to the 14th century and now owned by the National Trust, Lower Brockhampton manor house in Herefordshire.

DAVID HUNTER

Page Contents

SPRING 2015

12 The Historic Homes of England: Harvington Hall, Kidderminster, Worcestershire 14 My England Fair 10 The Editor’s Letter 12 A Royal History of England: Richard III 16 Betjeman: Warm Memories of England’s Best-Loved Poet 18 English Excursions: The Strange ‘undiscovered country’ of Orford Ness 22 In England — Now!: Inspired by Nature 24 England’s Glories 28 Notes from a Cottage Garden 30 Portrait of a Village: Warblington, Hampshire 33 Explore England 34 Nelson’s Column: Keeping an eye on the nation 36 Saved for the Nation 38 Poets’ Corner 40 Centenary of the First World War: War Under the Red Ensign 42 Post Box: Letters to the Editor 43 Silver Cross of St. George: Dale Howting 48 My First Car 50 Forget-Me-Nots: St. George in my blood 52 My Torpoint Bomb 53 Never go back?

54 Great Britons: Sir Arthur Bryan 56 London Pride: The House Where Time Stands Still 60 Armathwaite Signal Box 61 Christian England: Quiet Contemplation in Coventry Cathedral 62 Remembering ‘The Rebel’ 66 Cornucopia 70 English Books 74 English Diary 84 The Tranquil Heart

Graham Gough Kathleen Dickinson Stephen Garnett Paul James Margaret Turner John Greeves Angeline Wilcox —

Rosemary Pettigrew Dorothy Priest —

George Nelson Kathryn Lynch Susan Kelleher Bernard Edwards —

Angeline Wilcox —

Peter Taylor Tom Bowden Phyllis Bond Inglis Graham Bebbington Stuart Millson Tracey Johnson Jennifer Allen Stuart Millson — — —

Doreen Beer

This England — read by two million patriots all over the World!

Printed in England by Webmart Ltd, OX26 4UL Distributed by Marketforce, The Blue Fin Building,110 Southwark Street, London, SE1 0SU. © 2015 This England Publishing Ltd.

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Source/Contributor

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hy was John Betjeman so loved? Simple answer: he wasn’t pompous, even though he had mixed with the great writers of the day such as C. S. Lewis, Evelyn Waugh, Walter De La Mare, Hugh Walpole and George Orwell. He cared about people.

He cared about me, enough to acknowledge my badly spelt poems, albeit on a memo. Amazing that this newly appointed Poet Laureate could find the time to write to a 23-year-old fledgling poet.

“Read William Blake,” he advised, “and try sending to church magazines...Good luck with it.”

What a pity I lost that little memo.

Today it would have been framed, taking pride of place above my bookcase filled with the works of writers with whom he had also corresponded.

John Betjeman was born on 28th August 1906 to Ernest and Mabel Betjemann (spelt with two n’s). The family lived at Parliament Hill Mansions in the Lissenden Gardens private estate in Highgate, North London. When the First World War broke out, a Germansounding name became a disadvantage so by his teens John was using an earlier form of the family name.

As an only child with few friends, John made a confidante of his teddybear Archibald, who survived into patched old age. Evelyn Waugh pirated him for Sebastian Flyte’s bear in Brideshead Revisited.

Christopher Sykes, active in John’s preservation campaigns, and later to be Evelyn Waugh’s biographer, respected John but viewed him as eccentric.

“I remember one thing that was odd about him,” he recalled.

“When he passed a building he admired, he used to clap.” This almost childlike reaction endears Betjeman to me.

John was educated locally at Byron House and Highgate School (where one of his masters was the poet T.S. Eliot, liked

by Betjeman because he wasn’t a bully), then at the Dragon School, Oxford, and Marlborough College in Wiltshire.

Of Betjeman’ s entrance examination to Oxford, Bevis Hillier, author of A Life In Pictures wrote: “John didn’t do well in the entrance exam to Magdalen College, Oxford, but the President, Sir Herbert Warren, exercised his right, as President, to admit him regardless of the examination results — possibly because he liked the poem with which John had won a prize at Marlborough College when he was a boarder in 1920.”

In 1925 John became an undergraduate at Magdalen College, Oxford, and was a close friend of W. H. Auden’s. He was sent down from Oxford in 1928. Not gifted academically, he created

the legend that he had failed Divinity so that he seemed less of an academic failure. His tutor C. S. Lewis described him as an “idle prig”. Lewis thought John a frivolous playboy, who came to some tutorials in carpet slippers and cut others with unconvincing excuses.

He may well have been both academically and physically lazy. His father was a keen golfer and cricketer and had wanted John to excel at both sports, but John’s interest was half-hearted; he would much rather be an onlooker than participant.

In a letter to a fellow student he wrote of his father: “On Saturday I go to spend a ghastly few days in Cornwall with my parents. Ernie has got only ‘pseudo’ angina (although this can’t kill him, it is incurable) but he also has structural disease of the heart. This means that he will die in about five years — just enough for him to wreck my life.”

No love lost there!

In 1929 he became private secretary to the politician Sir Horace Plunkett, a 75-year-old Irishman whose interest was the Irish dairy trade. The appointment was not a great success.

On 18th February 1929 Sir Horace wrote in his diary: “The whole trouble is that he cannot concentrate on anything.

He reads a bit of agricultural cooperation stuff and then writes a poem or a story which comes much easier than my dull drab toil.”

After two months he was replaced as secretary by John Bowle. He then became a prep school master at Thorpe House School, Gerrard’s Cross.

During the holidays John managed to sustain his highflying social life. He mixed with the bright young minds of the day, including Randolph Churchill and Diana Churchill, and Elizabeth Harman (later Lady Longford). In 1930 he became assistant editor of The Architectural Review and campaigned throughout his life to preserve threatened buildings (in 1958 he was a founder member of The Victorian Society). His first book of poems, Mount Zion, was published in 1931.

In 1933 he married Penelope Chetwode, daughter of Field Marshal Lord Chetwode, a former Commander-in-Chief of India. The couple, who set up home at Uffington in Berkshire, and later in Wantage, had two children, Paul (born 1937)

BETJEMAN

Warm Memories of England’s Best-Loved Poet

PETER HERRING

Marlborough College, where Betjeman founded “The Heretick” magazine and (right) Magdalen College, Oxford, where he edited the “Cherwell” student newspaper.

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Many books, old and new, by and about Betjeman can be enjoyed by the keen collector, and many of the television programmes he made are available on DVD.

in 1969 and became Clevedon Pier in Somerset, one of the Poet Laureate in many architectural 1972. treasures that the In later years he poet fought to protect. was more famous PAUL WOLOSCHUK for championing unfashionable causes than for his poetry.

In 1979 he founded the National Piers Society, campaigning vigorously and saving Brighton’s West Pier, Clevedon Pier, Saltburn Pier and and Candida (born many others from 1942). In 1948 Penelope became a Roman being demolished.

Catholic and the couple drifted apart; in He was also a 195l he met Lady Elizabeth Cavendish, regular on radio and with whom he developed a lifelong television: one of his most memorable appearances was in friendship. the acclaimed 1973 documentary MetroJohn was film critic for the Evening Land.

Standard, but continued to write poetry, and I was a product of the Sixties and his next book, Continual Dew, appeared was influenced by The Beatles and Bob in 1937. He also began work on the series Dylan. My poetry reflected this, so the of Shell Guides to the counties of England. idea of having my work published in a His work was in response to the increasing church magazine did not appeal to me. number of motorists in Britain.

I did, however, read William Blake and When the Second World War broke out understood the merit of his work. he volunteered for the Royal Air Force, but Even though John Betjeman must was turned down after failing a psychology have suffered in the latter part of his life test which showed that he was terrified because of Parkinson’s Disease, I like to of spiders. In 1943, while working for the remember him convulsed with laughter Ministry of Information, John made regular The poet’s desk and typewriter at the John or, as an ardent fan of Coronation Street, appearances on The Brains Trust and Betjeman Centre in Wadebridge. having his photograph taken with Stan and became one of the new question masters.

Hilda Ogden.

His poetry didn’t really take off until the late Fifties, by which time he had started to bridge the gap that was needed for In the end a series of strokes reduced his mobility and the ordinary man in the street to appreciate poetry. A Few Late eventually caused his death. He died on 19th May 1984 at Chrysanthemums was published in 1954, Collected Poems in Trebetherick, the Cornish village he had come to regard as 1958 and the autobiographical Summoned By Bells in 1960. home. He was buried at the nearby church of St. Enodoc.

He loved watching athletic women in action, depicted At the end of his life he was asked to give the prizes at comically in his poem “Myfanwy”. Interviewed by poet Royston Giggleswick School for boys. After saying how good looking Ellis on a 1961 television programme, he said of his interest in and well dressed they were, in typical J.B. fashion he described woman playing sport: “It was purely physical”! himself as “a fraud who has got away He seemed to get away with saying outrageous with it”. things. His most infamous poem is “Slough”. I really His final poem summed up his think it one of his best, but a bit unfortunate if you life, albeit in a very simple way but happen to come from that town. He recited this poem humorous to the end. to great effect: deadpan, and to a monotonous beat, The Last Laugh it would soon have you chuckling. He was knighted Made hay while the sun shone.

My work sold.

St. Enodoc’s Church where Betjeman is buried and the Now if the harvest is over statue by Martin Jennings at St. Pancras Station in London.

And the world cold Give me the bonus of laughter As I lose hold.

MARGARET TURNER

GEORGE MITCHELL

JOHN HUSBAND

Further Information The Betjeman Society www.betjemansociety.com Hon. Secretary: David Nodder, Pleasant View, Dawney Hill, Pirbright, Surrey GU24 0JB. Tel: 01483 472186 Email: honsecbetjeman@hotmail.com THIS ENGLAND, Spring, Winter, 2015 2014

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English Excursions

The strange ‘undiscovered country’ of Orford Ness

The lighthouse on the shingle beach was built in 1792.

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rford Ness is a vast shingle spit off the Suffolk coastline stretching 12 miles long and up to a mile wide, which curls offshore from Aldeburgh to Hollesley. It is one of the best examples in the world of vegetated shingle habitat with plant life growing along its ridges and furrows. Each spring the whole area goes green.

No one can really determine the true age of the spit, but in geological age it’s recent. The spit, a product of longshore drift, is deceptively flat and empty and is known by the locals as the Spit or the Island. The Ness or (Nose) is constantly changing, as the size and shape

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fluctuates. As well as the shingle, there is salt marsh, freshwater lagoons and reed beds. It was once the haunt for smugglers in the 1800s, but for most of the 20th century the Ness remained a top-secret location, owned by the Ministry of Defence. It was used as a military test site during both world wars and later into the Cold War. Military use ceased in 1982, when the site was abandoned by the Ministry of Defence.

In 1993 Orford Ness was purchased by the National Trust for £3.5 million. Much of the money came from grants and various appeals, but a major contribution of over half a million came directly from

the National Trust (the biggest sum ever) for the acquisition of this unique habitat.

The public weren’t permitted on Orford Ness until 1995. This was because of the profusion of unexploded ordnance which had to be cleared from the site. Today, the site is a designated National Nature Reserve and forms part of the Alde-Ore Estuary Site of Special Scientific Interest on a coastline classified as an Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty. Orford Ness is accessible by boat (five minutes) from Orford Quay, operated by the National Trust until 30th September. Visitors have access to the site through a number of

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before the First World War, the War Department bought the land in 1913.

Building an airfield remained a major priority at this time and the Central Flying School’s Experimental Flying Section arrived in 1915.

A period of intense military experimentation began that would continue at different periods for the next 70 years. Early experiments included the use of aerial photography and the development of bomb and machine-gun sights as well as parachute testing. The Ness was also used as a firing and bombing range and extensive work was undertaken in testing the capability of wartime aircraft.

The Bomb Ballistic building can be seen today, but other remains, such as the two great hangars, no longer exist.

After the First World War the bombing range established itself as the foremost ballistic testing facility in the country. Robert Watson-Watt and his team then arrived in 1935 and began to research the development of an aerial F ©NATIONAL TRUST IMAGES/PAUL CORNISH

geomorphologic value of the site and allowed the natural processes of decay to run their course. Slowly, man-made structures are returning to their natural state. It is, as Christopher Somerville argued (1998) in The Sunday Telegraph, “the nearest you can come in England to walking in a desert”.

People first used the spit and its marshes for food, gathering eggs, fishing, grazing sheep and cattle. During the next few centuries the strategic position of the Ness became far more prominent due to the naval battles with the Dutch and French. Other threats existed; during a great storm in 1627, 32 ships were wrecked off Orford Ness. As a result, the first lighthouse was built and this led eventually to the present Trinity Lighthouse designed by William Wilkin in 1792 which closed in 2013 due to the sea’s inundation.

People continued to use the spit very much like their forefathers did, until the turn of the 20th century. Shortly

©NATIONAL TRUST IMAGES/JOHN MILLAR

Above: Testing laboratories for the development of the atomic bomb, the strange pagodas.

Below: Abandoned buildings, with nature gradually taking over.

©NATIONAL TRUST IMAGES/JOHN MILLAR

designated trails to areas of historical and ecological importance.

This is an enigmatic place, a land of decay and rebirth, of surreal abandoned buildings, of lost voices, crying terns and gulls, encrypted strangeness, desolation and fragile beauty, where no attempt is made to disguise the military legacy and history of the site.

W.G. Sebald, in his memorable book, The Rings of Saturn, described his first excursion onto Orford Ness, “as if I was passing through an undiscovered country”. The National Trust has pursued a general policy of nonintervention to protect the biological and

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These gorgeous roses were growing round an old calf pen at Barrington Court near Ilminster in Somerset. John Dann, from Enderby in Leicestershire, visited the Tudor manor house with his wife Josey during the summer of 2013.

ENGLAND’S GLORIES

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e hope that you liked the pictures we chose as winner and runners-up in our recent photography competition. These were published in the Winter 2014 issue of the magazine, but, as we said in the accompanying article, given the number and quality of the photographs submitted the decision was a difficult one and those that were chosen inevitably reflected the judges’ own individual tastes and expectations.

The theme of the competition was “England’s Glories”, and in order to enable readers to see for themselves the many ingenious and imaginative ways in which this was interpreted, we are delighted to publish a selection of the entries that didn’t quite make it onto the winners’ podium. You might think they ought to have done. No matter.

What they do reveal, if anyone needed reminding, are the rich character of our wonderful country and the many magnificent treasures to be discovered round every bend in the road. England’s glories indeed!

Paul Drabwell, who now lives in Burradoo, New South Wales, Australia, mined his photographic archive for this splendid picture. He took it in June 1960 in Horse Guards Parade before the Trooping the Colour ceremony and called it “A Guardian of the Realm — The Silent Sentry”.

It certainly encapsulates England’s history and pageantry.

The grandeur and tranquillity of England’s country gardens and the eccentricity and variety of some of our English architecture are portrayed in this view in the grounds of Exton Hall in Rutland. The photograph was taken by Joyce Lucas of Oakham.

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Klim Seabright of Cheltenham in Gloucestershire says that whenever he shows this photograph to his international friends, they all know right away that it is Wimbledon in an English summer. “I like the fact,” said Klim, “that the picture produces such a response without any sign of a tennis ball or lawn, but somehow you can hear racket on ball, smell the grass and taste the strawberries!”

The bitter cold did nothing to distract from the wintry beauty of a frozen River Severn a few miles downstream from Shrewsbury in Shropshire. Richard Wood of Chippenham in Wiltshire took the picture.

“The cottage garden seems to be the epitome of everything we love about England and its countryside,” wrote Jonathan Graham-Brown when he sent us the photograph of his own beautifully cultivated corner at Lurgashall, West Sussex. The table laid for afternoon tea is also a wonderfully English sight.

Andy Reeve of Norwich in Norfolk snapped this pair of socks in support of the Union while walking through London’s Regent’s Park. The identity of the man with the patriotic feet is not known.

This photograph, taken from a coastal path near Fowey in Cornwall in September 2012, demonstrates to Mr. S.J. Barratt of Cranfield in Bedfordshire that when the sun shines the English coastline can rival any coastlines across the world.

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Centenary of the First World War

WAR UNDER THE RED ENSIGN 1914-1918

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n the afternoon of 10th March 1917, the British cargo liner Otaki was four days out from London bound for the Pacific via the Panama Canal. The wind was blowing force 9 with heavy seas sending icy spray everywhere and on the bridge, 38-year-old Captain Archibald Bisset Smith had just received a radio message warning him of a German commerce raider operating off the Cape Verde Islands. The Otaki, a refrigerated meat carrier, with a Boer War-vintage 4.7-inch gun which had never been fired in anger, continued on her southerly course but, unknown to both, the reported German ship was moving north on a reciprocal course.

Möwe (the German for Seagull), was an ex-banana boat

requisitioned by the German Navy as an auxiliary cruiser and carried several guns and four torpedoes. All her armament was hidden behind shutters, however, and she was manned by a crew of fully-trained naval personnel under the aristocratic Kapitan Count Dohna-Schlodien. She had been at sea for four months, was running low on fuel and provisions, and carried nearly 450 prisoners taken from merchant ships already sunk.

Her intention was to slip around Scotland then run the British blockade through the North Sea. Suddenly appearing out of rain squalls, the Möwe and Otaki sighted each other, Bisset Smith with suspicion, Dohna-Schlodien with dismay. The last thing he wanted was more prisoners to feed.

First World War posters usually concentrated on the Army but a few mentioned the British, Imperial and American Navies. The Merchant Navy, however, was almost totally ignored and, disgracefully, continued to be officially forgotten until recent times. Without the “Fourth Service” the nation would have been crippled in both wars and those who served under the Red Ensign (nicknamed Red Duster) suffered an extremely high mortality rate.

IMAGES FROM “POSTERS OF THE GREAT WAR”, PEN & SWORD £19.99.

When the heavily armed German auxiliary cruiser (left) met the almost defenceless British merchantman (above) in the middle of the Atlantic, there should have been only one result — but it didn’t turn out that way.

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This American poster was published late in the war and at first glance can be quite misleading. What is actually depicted is the sinking of a U-boat by a dazzle-painted destroyer, protecting a troop ship in the background. In truth, many of the Merchant Navy ships sailed virtually defenceless, their hurriedly mounted and largely ineffective old guns proving no deterrent to both underwater and surface raiders.

explosion in her engine room. She was lucky to survive and When the Möwe dropped her shutters and exposed her with her fires extinguished and shell holes plugged, eventually guns, Bisset Smith instinctively ordered the helm hard over to limped back to Kiel so badly damaged she had to serve out present his stern to the enemy, and rang for full speed ahead. the rest of the war as an auxiliary minelayer in the Baltic, The ensuing fight between two ill-matched ships was fierce with finally succumbing to Allied bombs in April both pitching heavily, but with foredecks awash 1945. However, as the most successful German with green foaming water, the fine art of gun raider, she had sunk 40 Allied merchantmen laying was reduced to pot luck. The odds were which earned Count Dohna-Schlodien the stacked heavily in favour of the Möwe but it fabled “Blue Max”, Germany’s equivalent of the was the Otaki’s gunners who scored the first hit, Victoria Cross. their shell exploding below the waterline. Shock Sadly, his opposite number, Archibald Bisset turned to indignation when the Otaki proved Smith, proved to be an embarrassment to her gunnery was anything but haphazard by the Admiralty because, despite commanding lobbing another shell straight into the Möwe’s an armed ship, he was still classified as a coal bunker. civilian and therefore ineligible for a military The disciplined German gunners quickly decoration. However, the Admirals had not hit back, however, and very soon the situation reckoned with Bisset Smith’s widow, Edith, was reversed. Twenty minutes after the duel who mounted a vigorous campaign for official began, the Otaki was on fire from stem to stern. recognition of her husband’s gallantry.

Her gun had been knocked out, four of her The national press took up the torch and crew lay dead, and nine others were seriously more than two years after the Otaki went injured. With darkness not far away Captain down, he was posthumously awarded the Bisset Smith was forced to abandon his sinking Victoria Cross but as a temporary lieutenant ship, and having supervised the placing of not as a captain, his surreptitious demotion wounded in the boats, returned to the bridge. to the Naval Reserve nothing more than a He was never seen again and now lies with the Captain Archibald Bisset Smith VC, initially received no ruse by the Admiralty to circumvent the Otaki 3,000 fathoms deep, together with Deck of his bravery regulations covering military decorations.

Boy Robert Keneston, Apprentice Basil Kilner, acknowledgement because he was not technically It was also symptomatic of the shabby Third Engineer Arthur Little, Apprentice a member of the Armed Forces.

His widow, however, rallied treatment of Britain’s merchant seamen in the William Martin (just 14 years old when he died public opinion and made 1914-1918 war when 5,000 ships and 15,000 men helping to man the stern gun), and Steward sure that he, and other brave were lost. Sadly, all those who died to keep the H.J. Willis. members of the Merchant Navy, sea lanes open have been virtually ignored.

Surprisingly, the Möwe’s casualty list was henceforth received proper recognition. even more grievous with nine killed by an BERNARD EDWARDS THIS ENGLAND, Spring, 2015

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My F

C a r t s ir

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n our winter issue, we invited readers to get behind the wheel and rev up the memories of their first car. Since then a steady stream of vehicles have chugged, spluttered, pootled and zoomed their way to our offices in Cheltenham!

From vintage to classic cars we have been delighted by your response, so thank you for sharing your magnificent motors with us. You have driven us on a fantastic trip down memory lane, during which we’ve clocked up the miles along the highways and byways of our motoring heritage. Many of your recollections highlighted that these cars weren’t always reliable — and you never knew if you would arrive at your destination — but that’s what made driving such an adventure. Those were the days when vehicles had character and motoring was fun — no power steering, ABS or cruise control required!

It’s great to discover that many of you were capable mechanics who enthusiastically rolled up your sleeves and lifted the bonnet to tend to any minor repairs or major overhauls.

Whether a bone-shaker or a beauty your first cars gave you independence, freedom, enjoyment and allowed you to realise your dreams. They were your pride and joy. And, as you set off on the open road, new opportunities beckoned on the horizon. So, let’s get in the driving seat, start up the engine, and accelerate through some of your marvellous motoring memories. Look out for more in future issues.

ANGELINE WILCOX Andrew Hopwood, Corsham, Wiltshire:

My first car, when I was 18 in 1964, was a 1933 Austin Seven saloon. I bought it on my birthday for £12 including a huge tin trunk of spares and three months’ tax. It went well.

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Above 25mph it had a big vibration, caused by the worn fabric universal joints in the prop shaft. The spares chest enabled me to put that right, then I could get up to 45mph sometimes! The unusual flat-section fan belt was missing, but a local scrapyard provided one. The cable brakes were not good, but after careful adjustment you could hope for one good stop!

The temptation was to test this, but then you had to adjust them again!

One day I tried to powerslide (!) the rear wheels on some gravel. Unfortunately, afterwards, I found the front axle cracked near one of the kingpins. The spares provided another front axle!

For several months I commuted 50 miles a day in it to university in Bristol. The single windscreen wiper was erratic and you often had to twiddle the knob to keep it going!

drive flat-out at 20mph, the 15 minutes to Eastbourne and back. The petrol tank had a box up by the windscreen, and I carried a lemonade bottle of petrol as a spare. Petrol was rationed, at one shilling and three pence per gallon.

I couldn’t work the squeezy horn, so if pedestrians were in the way, I had to say “Excuse me”! Ignition was just a switch on the dashboard, and the accelerator was the middle pedal, so my foot was always twisted to press it. I sat one child beside me in the second seat, and the other had to sit up on the back in the wind.

The boot was huge, just canvas on an ash frame, the lid opened like a pelican’s beak.

Parked outside our local shop another identical green 1929 MG drew up beside me, and a frightfully handsome young man said, “By jove — you too.” He was the late Flight Lieutenant Tony Snell.

I wish I still had “Foot-foot”, but mother sold her for an A40.

David Baker, Ashtead, Surrey:

of reader An Austin Seven was the first car spotted in Andrew Hopwood. This one was DAVID HUNTER Berkeley, Gloucestershire.

Alas, the radiator leaked, so I couldn’t use anti-freeze. On frosty nights I had to drain it and refill in the morning. This got too much trouble, so I swapped the Austin for a very early, perhaps 1949, side-valve Morris Minor (priced at £20). What a revelation that was after the old Austin. Seventy-two mph downhill. Lovely steering. Hydraulic brakes.

Happy days!

The Austin can still be seen on the roads locally (registration number WV 4333).

Someone spent lots of money refurbishing it; it’s better now than when I had it 50 years ago!

It was a white Fiat 600. It was my pride and joy and being on four wheels instead of two Lambretta scooter wheels was like stepping into a Rolls-Royce!

I took my father for a “spin” in it, but he and I didn’t realise it would be a real spin. Having four slightly worn crossply tyres and rear-wheel drive it was like driving a bar of soap in the wet. Accelerate too quickly out of a corner and you found the back end going a lot faster than the front end! My father was so frightened he said he’d buy me four new Pirelli Cinturato radial tyres. I pointed out I had a spare too, so he reluctantly bought a fifth as well. Those new tyres transformed the car and it became much safer to drive.

Another memory was the “Heath Robinson” heater, which was just a flap under the back seat that allowed the warm air being blown over the engine to travel inside the car. The only regulation to the heat was “door open” or “door closed”.

Being particularly proud of my car I was always cleaning and polishing everything — even the engine. One Saturday, having cleaned the engine with an oily rag, I set off for home in Chichester from my flat in London. Driving through the suburbs I

June Snow, Onchan, Isle of Man:

My first car (see enclosed photo) was a red 1929 MG — the same age as me!

We “met” when my mother wanted my two young siblings taken out for the day. In 1946, when I was 17, she had seen the car at a petrol station, looking rather abandoned and sad. I bought a driving licence and she paid £20 for it, the garage owner said he would “get it going”!

Named “Foot-foot” by the children, because it sounded like that, we would June Sno w in her sporty, red 1929

MG called “Foot-foot”.

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quickly realised the car was on fire as the cabin was full of smoke! I stopped the car and ran into a Dolcis shoe shop to borrow a fire extinguisher. I ran out of the shop clutching the extinguisher and proceeded to fill the engine compartment with foam. When the smoke cleared, I found a smouldering oily rag on the engine manifold and a somewhat angry manager of a Dolcis shoe shop! To cap it all, the HT cap was wet and it took an age to dry out for me to start the car again. I received many strange looks sitting in the car surrounded by foam!

at best. I tried for months to live with it, but it became clear that it was never going to work properly.

My local garage advised that if I could buy a floor-change gearbox from a Morris Oxford or an Austin Cambridge they would be able to cure the vagaries of the column change. I found just such an item for £9 and delivered the car and gearbox for attention, but it didn’t work.

So I decided to sell. A gentleman in a “posh” part of town asked to see it. I parked in his Ian Bates owned an Austin Metropolitan like this one pictured at Saltaire in drive and he nipped Yorkshire.

DOROTHY BURROW into the driver’s S seat. I had left it in gear and he Susan Buchanan, Lancing, West suddenly pulled the washer, Sussex: which acted as a starter, and the After passing my driving test in 1974, I car leapt into his garage door bought a Hillman Husky small estate car for damaging the Jaguar within and £60. It was possibly produced in 1959 and was pushing the wing backwards on looked on as a bit of a joke — old cars at that the passenger side of my car. time were not appreciated for their vintage He clearly felt obliged to appeal. However, Winston Churchill had buy my wreck and asked that I owned one, so that was good enough for me. deliver the car to his daughter The Husky was not a hatchback, having as a present, with his wife as my instead a single side-hinged rear door. Unlike passenger. I always felt guilty the Minx, with its column change, the gear that the gear change behaved Mrs. B. Williams has fond mem lever for the Husky was floor mounted and so well on the trip that his wife ories of her Triumph Herald convertible. very long — so long, in fact, that to place it in commented: “I hope the car drives first gear I had to reach across my passenger’s as well for my daughter as it does for knees, which could be quite embarrassing!

Mrs. B. Williams, Biggleswade, you.” I had the same forlorn hope!

It came in a variety of jolly colours — Bedfordshire: mine was pink and cream — which must My husband’s job took him all over have been unusual in those early days East Anglia and he decided his new car when most cars were black. My Husky should be a Triumph Herald, convertible. was a good runner and I loved it!

At the time I was learning to drive in an It was a very sad day when I had to Austin 1100. say goodbye to it, not because of any When my husband decided he running fault or expense, but because it needed a larger saloon car he sold the had become rusty underneath. If I had Austin and handed me the Herald. I had the space to keep it, I would have was terrified as the pedals were offset kept it for ever. compared with the Austin, but I got used to it and enjoyed having the hood off. We John & Barbara Cavill, owned a beautiful Old English Sheepdog Rotherham, Yorkshire: who simply adored sitting in the car and I This is us (see photograph below) soon became known as “Bob’s chauffeur”! in 1956 with our first car — a I934 After 38 years and well over 100,000 Standard 10 — bought for £45 with miles I was in my 80s and felt I should give rished by money I had saved during National allow, which was che up driving. I sold the Triumph for nearly as The Austin Seven Sw Service. I filled it up on the first day at the . wn much as we had paid for it new. I hope it is Richard Bro princely sum of 30/-. This week I filled up still going. my present car for £70 — ah well!

Richard Brown, Hailsham, East

Ian Bates, Heswall, Wirral:

In my late teens, about 1967, I had £100 to spend on a car. I had always fancied an Austin Metropolitan and there was one available in Swansea for £100. I didn’t test drive it, but was taken for a short run by the seller before kissing goodbye to my life’s savings.

I loved it! Great looks, big engine for its weight, comfy seats for two and a valve radio built into the dashboard. What’s not to love? Well, the tyres were retreads and as the shoulder of the tread peeled away from the rest of the tyre I would slice the flapping rubber away! Worse still, it had a columnmounted gear change, which was “dodgy”

Sussex:

In the mid-1950s my older brother purchased an Austin Seven Swallow, 1931 model, from an elderly man in the village of Magham Down, Sussex, for the unbelievable sum of £6! (I enclose a photograph of me with this car — see above.)

When my brother was called up for National Service he left the Austin Swallow in my care and this was the first car that I drove. Upon his return from National Service my brother again took possession of the car and for some reason turned it into an Austin Seven Special. I was most disappointed. This was the start of my love of both Austin and Morris cars.

John & Barbara Cavill

with their Standard 10.

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Catherine Gurney OBE (1848-1930).

R

St. George in my blood

aising the flag of St. George on our flagpole in Kapiti, Wellington, New Zealand, St. George’s House, Otley Road, Harrogate. is a family ritual that takes The whole ethos and organisation of place each year on St. George’s Day, 23rd the orphanage was based upon strong April. My father Ernest Taylor died in religious principles and in turn echoed 1942; at the time he was serving as a CID the standards of Saint George: faith, detective with the Sunderland Borough integrity, courage and self-sacrifice and Police Force in the North East of England. so on. Whether we children absorbed all Times were tough during the war years these principles and lived our later lives and in 1943 my mother reluctantly agreed based on them to the standards set by to send my brother Reg and me to a police orphanage located in the lovely Yorkshire town of Harrogate. The orphanage was St. George’s House, founded in 1897 by Miss Catherine Gurney OBE; this became our home until 1947, when we came to live in New Zealand.

About 70 children, both boys and girls, were cared for at any given time ranging in age from two up to about 17.

We were well dressed, well fed and well housed and, I must say, well controlled by the lady superintendent Miss Evelyn Knocker.

50

St. George and the dragon and (below) children who performed a “Royal Arms” pantomime.

Miss Knocker is debatable, but hopefully they had some positive effect on us.

The influence of St. George was everywhere, from the flag flown on the mast of the main building tower to the caps and blazer badges we all wore on a daily basis; even our Scout Troop, Girl Guides and Air Cadets carried the name St. George’s.

The children all had their own work duties which had to be performed before going to school or weekend sports; these included amongst other things, brass polishing, dusting, floor scrubbing, toilet cleaning, shoe polishing and of course making our own beds. As one of the orphan boys said, when he attended Harrogate Grammar School his (nonorphan) classmates could not believe that he had to scrub floors before arriving at school. He went on to say “it was very appropriate that

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our study book for English Literature was Dickens’ David Copperfield”.

The basic circumstances of all of the police children who entered St. George’s were similar in that they had lost one or both of their parents.

This resulted in a close bond forming amongst the children. We were all treated alike by house masters and matrons and going through the same life experiences and hardships only served to St. George’s children in 1946. cement our friendships.

To make sure we were kept busy too late. The resulting website the superintendent would instruct the (www.stgeorgesharrogate.org) was house masters and matrons to organise launched in September 2007 and to pantomimes and plays. Naturally a date has attracted over 92,000 visitors. favourite was always the re-enactment of Although many in the United St. George slaying the dragon, along with Kingdom have not heard of her work, other patriotic themes.

Miss Catherine Gurney OBE was a The first thing the children and most remarkable woman who achieved visitors saw when arriving at St. George’s a huge amount in her lifetime with House was a sculpted depiction of St. many of the organisations she founded George appearing before, and providing in the early 1900s still in existence. succour to, Richard Coeur de Lion. This That, along with tales about her sculpture created by the Yorkshire artist relatives is a story in itself. So much so Frances Darlington was surrounded that the Bank of England has agreed by an oak frame with the Crusaders’ to place her name on their list for motto “Deus Vult” (“God Wills It”) consideration inscribed in gold on the when next they pediment. seek a suitable Along the base of the woman for memorial was a brass inclusion on the plate on which were United Kingdom engraved the names of 37 banknotes.

St. George’s old boys who PETER TAYLOR had served in the Armed Forces during the First World War; 10 of them lost their lives.

After arriving in New Zealand in 1947 the years passed and I lost contact with the “orphans” that I once knew. It wasn’t On the rolling hills of England — until November 2003, some 56 years Soft cambered, sun-creased, free, later, through the power of the internet, Awash with mists of mystic times, that I managed to re-establish contact Of turbulent history; with the St. George’s group and discover Through valleys rich and rare with dreams, that they held a three-day reunion every Through rocky tor and rugged gorge, year in Harrogate, the dates being as As time’s old warriors ride again — close to St. George’s Day as possible.

Carrying the banner of St. George.

My wife Vera and I have attended some of these reunions and we thoroughly Yes, down the cool and shadowed glades enjoyed the renewed contact with friends Amongst the music of the trees, and reconnecting with Yorkshire.

The knights of England ride again, Most of the remaining “orphans” With heads uplifted to the breeze. are in their seventies or older and Through snow and sleet and slanting rain, so we decided to create our own With lance held high and hand on sword, website to record our experiences, True visioned, stalwart, hearts of oak — along with everything we knew about Carrying the banner of St. George.

St. George’s House and its founder Miss Catherine Gurney OBE before it was

The First World War memorial.

More ‘FORGET-ME-NOTS’ overleaf

The Banner of St. George

True I have heard, when winds lie still, The clarion call, the beat of drum And clearly caught the piper’s skirl And horses trotting as they come — Down cobbled streets, past ancient cot, Past village green and glowing forge, Bearing proud and splendid English knights — Carrying the banner of St. George.

NGAIRE PEARCE

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The House Where Time Stands Still

T

o those who know London well, the city is a place of many localities: places with such differences of character, people, even customs and ways of doing things, that it sometimes seems as though the metropolis is not one single place at all. Just a short stroll from the bustling modernity of Liverpool Street station, there is an invisible border — an alteration of mood, atmosphere, even a different sense of society. From Bishopsgate and the commercial hurlyburly of the city, there is a moment when you pass over into the London of the East End: the thread and

patchwork of the streets of Spitalfields — a district of Victorian shadows, of 17th- and 18th-century street-cries, an urban alchemy that draws you away from the order we know, into a London of the past…

In 1979, inspired by the city and drawn to a dusty half-light of English forenoons, the Californian-born artist Dennis Severs (1948-99) moved into a decaying townhouse situated on Folgate Street. But Dennis Severs was no conventional artist, as you will see when you come on our journey (or — even better — when you make your own journey) to the house that bears his name.

The facade of the house gives no hint of what lies inside, such as (above) the dimly lit smoking room.

Like a character in a Peter Ackroyd novel, Severs was drawn to the ghosts of the old street and its houses, and saw in the physical reality of the place — not to mention its many hidden layers of history and memory — a piece of “living art”.

And so he contrived to create a scene into which the onlooker could walk, examine and observe — or possibly, be observed.

After all, who is to say that the spirits of the past are not with us all the time?

A “still-life drama” was the result: the 10 rooms of the ancient house, carefully

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recreated in every detail — from the tip of a pin, to the curve or placing of a spoon — to make it seem as though the original 18th-century owner, the Huguenot silk merchant Mr. Isaac Gervais had just popped outside for a few moments. This is no National Trust property, no dry exhibition piece: this is the home of a London family, with all of their things, their tastes and ideas — and the tangible feeling of the life they lead — all gathered together in the very space and air of the house.

In the turbulent 18th century, London was alive with rabid propagandists and determined pamphleteers, and my eye was

immediately caught by a tract currently being read by Mr. Gervais — the work, no less, of the Spitalfields Minister, John Burley: “The Sodomites… Shame and Doom.” I wonder if the pamphleteer had knocked at the door, or whether Mr. Gervais (his tricorn hat placed on a chair) had found the paper thrust into his hand as he walked back to his front door?

The family has certainly accumulated a vast array of belongings, trinkets and objects of all kinds; candles are usually needed to light the gloom of the declining autumnal afternoon, although today, London has a glinting, gleaming, slanting light cutting through the shadows and

filling the windows. The orange sunlight makes the children’s paperchains (made from newspaper) more cheerful, and the fruit, vegetables and flowers in the kitchen — the peas, beetroot, carrot and decorative lavender — look fresh.

There is bread, too, and lemons; and jugs, teacups, china, knives, forks — and a large fireplace, whose roaring flames help to keep body and soul together in the damp, endless wintry fogs and rain.

There is a scene by Hogarth above another fireplace — and the scene in the room almost replicates that depicted in the artwork: pipes and tobacco are on F the table, and a group of gentlemen F

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SPRING 2015 Quarterly £4.75

SPRING 2015

And when you’ve found the tranquil heart Then you will somehow know It surely was the hand of God, Which touched and made it so.

For every form of leaf and flower, Tree, watercourse and stone God made with pleasure, love and care To lead man to His throne.

For all who love our green and pleasant land

Volume Forty Eight Number One

If you would have a tranquil heart And a contented mind Then you must seek out nature’s peace, It is not hard to find; In tree-lined park or country lane, Beside a quiet pool On verdant hill, in forest glade It waits with calm and cool.

THIS ENGLAND

The Tranquil Heart

DOREEN BEER

Magnolias at Caerhays in Cornwall.

te cov spring 15 without.indd All Pages

Quarterly

JOHN HUSBAND

16/01/2015 09:24