12 minute read
Cover Story By Robin Mills
Robin Mills met Maurice Barnes in Symondsbury
© Maurice Barnes Photograph by Robin Mills
I’ was born in the village, on a farm at Miles Cross, just up the hill and down over. November 4th 1927. After the First World War ended, Father was living in a chicken shed on Eype Down. He had been able to save up enough money during the war when he had been a prisoner of the Germans by selling his tobacco and drink rations to the other prisoners. He didn’t smoke or drink himself. With the money he rented the field and bought the shed and a cow. He also worked at Crepe Farm where he met my mother. Her father was also working there and they met whilst she was taking him his lunch. They then had to save up for seven years before they could afford to get married. The bed I was born on is still in the Old Rectory here in the village. All four brass knobs are still on it. I went to school here in Symondsbury, and I can remember Father saying to me as I went to school, passing where they were milking the cows beside the road: “Nine more years to go to school”. I passed for Grammar School when I was 11, and Father said, “You ain’t going there, you’ve got to work”.
Maurice Barnes
As a boy on the farm we had horses, and I liked them. One was a beautiful animal, and so intelligent, and I was the only one who could catch her. But the tractor could do in an hour what the horse did in a day, and she had to be sold. I was in tears when that happened. I never really enjoyed the farming work. It was because the animals were all my pets. I cared for them so much, I’d get upset when one had to go. We used to put Cod Liver Oil on the cows’ feed, and they would queue up to get to it. Their coats were so beautiful and shiny.
I used to pick kale tops from the field after the cows had eaten all they wanted, and sell them to the greengrocer in Bridport, a shilling a pound. They were very popular in those days, and I’d carry a sackful into town on the handlebars of my bike. At that time we milked just the 12 cows, and we had a milk round and sold the eggs of our 200 chickens. We also grew and sold vegetables. My father was the potato king; he grew the best early potatoes anywhere round here, all naturally grown. We never used any artificial, there wasn’t any, and I think people had more sense. I always buy organic these days if I can. We sold potatoes for 17/6d a ton.
We gave up the milk round in about 1960, when we had to pasteurise it. I said to Father, “We’re not making much money out of it now, we’d best stop the milk round”. Farming was always a dangerous business, and I’ve had some lucky escapes. Our Ferguson tractor ran away with me downhill when it jumped out of gear, and I crashed into the bank. The tractor ran up the bank, but didn’t tip over backwards because of the plough on the back. There have been some scary incidents with bulls, and with our horse once or twice.
I was in the Home Guard in the last war. I got a call at 2am to say the Germans were landing at Lyme Regis. We went to the store where our kit was kept, and the sergeant said “I’m sorry Maurice, there isn’t a rifle for you, but the first man that’s shot, you can have his”. So we went down the lane to the farm where Bert Harris lived to collect him. No one would get out of the lorry to fetch Bert in case the Germans were in the bushes. So the sergeant sent me. I walked as quietly as I could down the lane, when I heard the click of a rifle being cocked. I called out “Is that you, Bert?” Thankfully Bert stood up, and his younger brother Ted, and he said, “I had my finger half-pulled on the trigger; only a bit more pressure and I’d have shot you. You spoke just in time—I thought you were Germans”. It was all a false alarm, anyway.
I went to a dance at Netherbury when I was 20. There were 3 girls there, and I asked this big chap who they were. He said he didn’t know, but I knew he did. I wanted to take one of them, called Hazel, home, but he had his eye on her. We managed to settle our differences without coming to blows, but I was ready for it, not being afraid of anyone. That was how Hazel and I got together. We married, and we had 5 children, but sadly she passed away 5 years ago.
I retired from farming when I was 63. We were just doing beef cattle then and my wife Hazel looked after them. By then we had been able to buy 5 houses, including the Old Rectory, which we bought in 1953. The Church of England had decided that the Rectory was too large for them and wanted to sell. By then we owned Miles Cross Farm and our fields were next to those that belonged to the Rectory. My Father was really only interested in the fields but the Church of England said they would only sell the fields with the building. I took two years to negotiate but in the end the Church said he could have the fields for £2000 and the Rectory for another £500. By then Father had been able to save up enough cash to buy it. It was very run down, but my mother and father were so pleased to be able to live there. Although, he wasn’t pleased that I’d bought it for a lot less than he told me to offer! After a while the whole family moved in; Father, mother, Hazel and me and our five children. He always said that all he wanted was a nice house and £2000 in the bank, and he was able to live out the rest of his days there. I was able to buy several houses in and around Bridport and I gave them all to my children or the government would have taken half when I die, and I think that’s wrong. My son Eugene took over one of the farms, and daughter Ruth took on the other.
I am also an inventor and spent three years designing the ‘Barnes Buckle’ after seeing footage of a fallen jockey being dragged. Every rider dreads falling off; and being dragged, even more so. The Barnes Buckle is a safety device which
© Maurice Barnes Photograph by Robin Mills
attaches to the stirrup and stirrup leather. It does not affect your riding in any way, but if the worst happens and you fall off and your foot is stuck in the stirrup, the parts will release under only 6kg of pressure but in normal riding circumstances it would take a pressure of 1400kg to part the pieces.
The Council rang me up one day and asked if I’d help them out with the car parking in Lyme Regis. That was 34 years ago. So I was car park man there for 5 years. I met all sorts of people. There was a new Mercedes I saw being parked by a couple, then a young man came and drove it away. Then two people asked me if I’d seen the car, turns out they were Special Branch, and I was able to say what colour it was, which pleased them no end. But I don’t know what that was all about.
I joined Lyme Regis Ramblers. A lady in the group asked me to pull down her wooden garage. I managed to straighten it up for her, and carried out a few other jobs, but I didn’t want paying, despite her protests. Why be greedy, I thought. We became good friends, and she would take me on holidays to the Scilly Isles. Carpentry was my hobby; I made Davenports, and tables, one of which sold many years ago for £500.
I was 14 when my grandmother told me I was descended from William Barnes the Dorset poet. In my later years I was able to fulfil a lifetime’s ambition and write some poetry. In 1993 I had them printed in a small book and published. It’s called A Poet Walks in West Dorset. Some of the poems are true, and some…well, I wish they were. ’
With so many tragic stories unfolding on the world stage, it seems slightly conflicting to talk about small local events. But after such a long period when communities were unable to come together, it also feels enormously positive that so many activities are emerging. From jumble sales to film festivals, these are all opportunities for people to come together, to talk, and especially to feel part of something again—and so many of these activities are also helping to assist others. Perhaps the current efforts to help those displaced by the conflict in Ukraine remind us that, with cold and insular activities continuing around the world there will always be people in need—and needs come in many guises. Two books mentioned in this issue highlight something that affects all communities. In Young Lit Fix (page 54), Nicky Mathewson reviews a book for teenagers called The Sad Ghost Club. The author, Lize Meddings has set up a website around her books and illustrations to spread positive awareness of mental health issues, especially for young people. At a time when we have all been impacted by massive upheaval, it is great to see initiatives offering understanding, especially when traditional assistance is overwhelmed. And here in the Marshwood Vale, the Pilsdon Community has also published a book that highlights kindness and caring (page 18). As a Community, it has been a huge benefit to people whose emotional state has made their lives difficult, especially when suffering anxiety and alienation within the traditional structures of modern society. Talking with Edith Bowman about her pick of films for Bridport’s Film Festival (page 42) she talked about how choices of entertainment depend on our emotional state at the time of choosing. Well, there’s no doubt that over the last few years emotional states have taken a beating. From Brexit to Covid to war in Ukraine, we are experiencing moments in history that are, to say the least, immense. However, despite that, the stories of people making time to help in so many different ways; whether raising money through local events, fundraising at larger gatherings, or helping organise aid packages are also extraordinary. They should be applauded and supported wherever possible. 3 Cover Story By Robin Mills
10 Event News and Courses 18 Past Present and Future - Dr Mary Davies 22 News & Views 23 Inside the Boat Building Academy
24 Alfred the Great By Cecil Amor
26 The Fine Art of Drying - Business Profile
28 Sighting Seals By Philip Strange
30 House & Garden
30 Vegetables in April By Ashley Wheeler 32 April in the Garden By Russell Jordan 34 Property Round Up By Helen Fisher 36 Beer Quarry Caves By Kevin Cahill
38 Food & Dining 38 Slow Cooked Lamb with Lemon and Oregano
By Lesley Waters
40 Grilled Squid with Shaved Carrots and Nuoc Cham
By Mark Hix 41 Canaries Charter By Nick Fisher
42 Arts & Entertainment
42 Bridport’s Festival of Film By Fergus Byrne
44 Galleries
48 Preview By Gay Pirrie Weir 54 Young Lit Fix By Antonia Squire 55 Screen Time By Nic Jeune
56 Health & Beauty 58 Services & Classified
Fergus Byrne
Published Monthly and distributed by Marshwood Vale Ltd Lower Atrim, Bridport Dorset DT6 5PX
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Contributors
Kevin Cahill Seth Dellow Helen Fisher Nick Fisher Richard Gahagan Mark Hix Nic Jeune Russell Jordan Robin Mills Gay Pirrie Weir Antonia Squire Phillip Strange Lesley Waters Ashley Wheeler
The views expressed in The Marshwood Vale Magazine and People Magazines are not necessarily those of the editorial team. Unless otherwise stated, Copyright of the entire magazine contents is strictly reserved on behalf of the Marshwood Vale Magazine and the authors. Disclaimer: Whilst every effort is made to ensure the accuracy of dates, event information and advertisements, events may be cancelled or event dates may be subject to alteration. Neither Marshwood Vale Ltd nor People Magazines Ltd can accept any responsibility for the accuracy of any information or claims made by advertisers included within this publication.
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Trades descriptions act 1968. It is a criminal offence for anyone in the course of a trade or business to falsely describe goods they are offering. The Sale of Goods Act 1979 and the Supply of Goods and Services Act 1982. The legislation requires that items offered for sale by private vendors must be ‘as described’. Failure to observe this requirement may allow the purchaser to sue for damages. Road Traffic Act. It is a criminal offence for anyone to sell a motor vehicle for use on the highway which is unroadworthy.
