Gentleman Cyclist

27/07/2006

A Day to Remember

Filed under: Uncategorized — admin @ 8:51 PM

Posted on 27 July 2006

The last day of our Scottish holiday began in a B & B in Melrose. The night before, on examining the “What’s on” folder in our room, we found   Christopher Rainbow’s Tandem Hire, operating out of a tiny hamlet near Jedburgh. This was only a short drive away, so we decided to give it a go. We booked the tandem by text message and received a return call pretty well straight away to confirm the booking.

We arrived at Timperdean Cottages before 10 a.m. and were greeted by the sight of three Thorn tandems on the lawn, leaning against stakes. Chris appeared and was immediately surprised that a potential customer had heard about Thorn tandems. Jan decided on the softest saddle available, we selected the largest tandem, Chris supplied us with an under-scale laminated 1:50000 OS map of the area and we were off.

The weather was bright and sunny (from our experience over the past week, Scotland sees little else!) and this time with a pleasant fresh breeze blowing away the oppressive humidity of much of the previous week: in other words, perfect cycling weather. We headed north-east to begin with, and then turned off the busy A68, ignoring a sign saying “Private” and cycled through the grounds of Harestanes and then crossed the B5400 up a fairly steep hill heading north. I engaged the lowest gear, and we twiddled away for quite a long time before going down the other side. There were occasional protests from behind, sometimes because of the steepness of the hill, at others because I was allowing our steed to gather such momentum before slowing our frequent, swooping descents.

We took a right turn towards Fairnington, through an avenue of massive beech trees, and then meandered our way towards Roxburgh. This was something of a disappointment as I expected Roxburgh to have rather more there than it actually had, a pub at least. My misunderstanding was based upon having remembered that David Steel, the Liberal Party Leader from the 1980s, represented the Roxburgh, Selkirk and Peebles constituency and I thought that somewhere that had an MP ought at least to have a pub. Attractive though Roxburgh was, it was not an active commercial centre on a Sunday morning. There was a buzzard and a heron, though, and the River Tweed was flowing nearby, so there was some compensation for our unslaked thirsts.

We returned via several tiny hamlets called Rutherford something-or-other, where barley was being harvested, finally entering St. Boswell’s via the A68. We didn’t like the look of the big pub on the main road, so went through the village, expecting some other hostelry, but again were disappointed. After a bit more meandering, we found our way to the most elegant Dryburgh Abbey Hotel. We were dressed in our scruffs, but still we went in and were given a warm welcome. Jan chose a fishcake, I opted for the smoked salmon, and we sat outside on a seat overlooking the River Tweed as we did our best not to allow the wasps to share our lunch.

I was conscious that time was getting on, and it was about 3 p.m. when we left the hotel. I knew that we had about another 15 miles to go before we handed the tandem back to its owner and that at least 3 hours driving lay ahead of us before we reached our bed for the night in deepest Salford. We headed towards Whitelee, as I was not keen on riding on the A68 again. There were, of course, some more hills to climb, and we did this with a fair bit of straining and the occasional graunch of the derailleur as we put too much stress on the chain and I mistimed the changes. However, we didn’t get off, and it wasn’t too long before we were turning the corner from the B6359 towards Ale Water.

Here, the lack of detail on the map made life a little tricky: the road deteriorated to a rutted, stony track before fording the Ale Water and we didn’t feel confident in tackling the steep climb afterwards on such a rough surface, so the next 200 yards or so were the only walking we did. Once it resumed its status as a road, we found that the wind was behind us and we really cranked it up on some of the downhills, now gathering sufficient momentum on the rather wider road that we could keep up our pace much of the way up the hills as well.

We saw a sign saying “Ancrum 4” and it was barely 15 minutes later that we were speeding into the village. Imagine our delight on coming across the pub, so obviously open for business. We bought drinks, and that was an extra special reward, as Kildonan Ale, brewed by the An Teallach micro-brewery in Dundonnell, was being served. Apparently, the brewer comes from Ancrum and visits his mother every month or so, filling the car with barrels each time he makes the 250 mile journey from Wester Ross.

After a brief conversation with a local, we downed our pints and were on our way again, for the last mile or two back to Timpendean Cottages. We paid Chris his money (£35 for a day’s tandem hire) and left triumphant. The total ride was little short of 40 miles and there had not been a single complaint from my trusty stoker. It was at least double her previous longest ride and now I’m going to have to buy a wide, soft saddle to replace the Brooks Flyer which I had thought would be the ideal choice.

Our route can be found at http://www.gmap-pedometer.com/?r=334036

10/07/2006

London to Southend Bike Ride

Filed under: Uncategorized — admin @ 8:46 PM

Posted on 10 July 2006

Well, we just completed this and, as Tim C says, jolly good fun it was too.

To my complete surprise, when I rose at 5.30 and went round to wake the other participants, all were already awake and one was in the shower! A reasonably leisurely breakfast (porridge) was followed by a short trip to Southend Victoria station where there were enough cyclists around to make me think we had got the right day.

A 12-coach train was laid on but it wasn’t until we had walked the entire length of the train that we found somewhere to put the tandem. Why cannot any of the train companies “sacrifice” a few carriages, take the seats out of one half and put in Sheffield stands? Plenty of room for bikes, plenty of room for passengers. Put one carriage like this on every train running at rush hour or weekend, cyclists catered for for ever.

I am very familiar with the Southend to Liverpool Street service, and I was most disappointed (although I don’t really know why) that this non-stop train to Stratford actually took longer to get there than the normal weekday stopping service. Then, towards the end of the journey, the driver announced that they “hoped” that we would be approaching a platform so that the bikes could be unloaded on the same side as that from which they were loaded. Was he being facetious? Possibly, but I felt that there was a very real possibility that the most inaccessible cycles would need to be taken off first.

Getting out at Stratford still presented problems. Bikes had to be carried up and down several flights of stairs. More steps outside the station when following the directions to the official start of the ride. Then, when we arrived at Victoria Park, every bike had to be wheeled through a narrow pedestrian gate and lifted over a barrier when there were (locked) double gates right next door. Why didn’t anyone alert the London Borough of Tower Hamlets to the possibility that cyclists’ progress should be facilitated by actually letting them get into the park?

After a loo queue we were ready, and at almost exactly 9 a.m. we started on our journey.

If you have to cycle through Leytonstone, then I suppose that just after 9 o’clock on a Sunday morning is as good a time as any. We crossed the A12 via the Lea Interchange and then skirted Wanstead, arriving at an eerily deserted Charlie Brown’s Roundabout before heading to Chigwell. It was at about this point that we actually reached some pleasant countryside, but I think that the truth of the matter is that, for the greater part of this ride, you are just too close to London for the roads to become quiet; or, when you do finally shake off the metropolis, the pleasant rural roads don’t last long enough. The last 10 miles or so into Southend are on over-used, often fairly narrow, roads, because Southend dominates a peninsula. OK, I have learned from Nutty that there are some ways of escaping from Southend which are quieter than others, but you would hardly recommend them for a ride of this sort.

The four of us who rode were my daughter Ellen, her fiancé Ben, and younger son Graham, acting as a substitute for his older brother: the kidney transplant was nearly 6 weeks ago, but Denis has wisely decided to lay off any sort of exerting physical activity until he really feels ready.

Ben rode his ancient Raleigh, which has definitely seen better days. Ellen was on her lovely little Ridgeback, while Graham and I rode the tandem. Graham’s first ever ride on a tandem was the previous evening, and he had done virtually no distance cycling before, so this promised to be an ordeal. An interesting point was that I could tell the difference between Graham and Janet being on the back. With Graham, initially the beast became much less manageable, but by the day we were “pulling together” really well.

The Epping Forest area is, for Essex, rather hilly, and that put us through our paces early. It was not long before G & I had pulled well away from E & B: our hill work was no less effective than theirs, and of course our wind resistance was less (more favourable weight to surface are ratio on descents), our road resistance was less and we had a lot more power. This was the first time I had ridden a tandem on a communal ride and was agreeably surprised at our ability to outstrip pretty well any but obvious greyhounds on slender frames.

Once we had left the forest, we rode along more and more familiar roads. Kelvedon Hatch is getting close to my “stomping ground” and Mountnessing definitely so. Nevertheless, it was a surprise when we suddenly came upon the half-way stop at the windmill, and G & I spent quite a long time there, drinking tea and eating flapjack, until B & E arrived.

After Mountnessing, we travelled through Stock and, to my surprise, the route avoided the Lower Stock Road to West Hanningfield (a quiet, pretty and narrow lane) in favour of rather wider, busier roads. Thus we all but circumnavigated Hanningfield reservoir when there was a much more direct, and, in my view, preferable route. In addition, we “messed about” approaching East Hanningfield from the north. This meant that the Windmill was the second pub we reached. The hot dogs were acceptable butthe beer (Maldon Gold) was superb.

It was on the road between West and East Hanningfield that we chanced upon by far the most objectionable motorist of the entire journey. The road was narrow and with cyclists as far as the eye could see yet this fool still insisted on trying to overtake, just to get held up by the next set of cyclists. I decided it was too narrow a road to allow him the space to try, so I held the middle ground while he revved his engine behind me. At one point he made an attempt at overtaking but stopped because he clearly didn’t have room. It would be euphemistic to say that we exchanged greeetings, but it was a good mile later that the road became wider and I did give way for him to pass. Within a minute he had had an altercation with another cyclist who did nothing whatever to annoy him that I could see, and this chap was understandably aggrieved. Apparently our four-wheeled friend had made some comment or other along the lines that he paid his road fund licence and cyclists didn’t so he was perfectly entitled to drive in any way he wanted and it didn’t matter who got killed in the process.

After East Hanningfield there is a faily long downhill section which took us to the old A130. This has receently been converted from dual carriageway to single carriageway, and a cycle lane has been put in. This would be great except, of course, it disappears into nothingness at one point and, where it reappears, it is cluttered with gravel and other surface litter which makes it quite hard to cycle along.

Soon after this we reached Battlesbridge, the lowest bridging point of the River Crouch. From here to Southend, none of the lanes is quiet and there were far too many 4*4s, so, as TimC pointed out, it is pretty boring and none too pleasant to cycle.

Our arrival in Priory Park was greeted with a reception committee which reminded me somewhat of “Porky’s”: a buffoon in a yellow suit was accompanied by helpers who looked like superannuated cheerleaders. We were applauded in by people who somehow think that riding 60 miles on a bicycle is an extraordinary feat and would be quite amazed if they ever found out that there are people who do this sort of thing pretty well every Sunday.

Total mileage: 60.23. Total time: 7 hours 20 minutes. Time in saddle: about 5 hours.

05/07/2006

Giving it some Welly

Filed under: Uncategorized — admin @ 8:42 PM

Posted on 5 July 2006

That was the best yet!

Erik Richardson (good man) sorted out the freewheel and our new chain this morning, found a couple of broken spokes and re-shimmed the stoker’s seatpost so, this evening, after a pleasing meal consisting largely of pasta and garlic bread, we set off. Thorpe Bay, sea front, Wakering, Barling and home was the plan.

We reached in excess of 20 mph going past Southend Girls’ High School and turned towards the sea front and its oh-so-narrrow cycle lane. A few other good people were out on their irons (although of course these days most of them aren’t), the tide was in, the kite surfers were doing that, the sun was shining and the overpowering humidity of the earler part of the day had lifted a little. My one regret was not taking my cossie with me: Shoebury is one place where I feel that daytime skinny dipping would definitely be frowned upon.

A small amount of saddle adjustment took place near the coastguard station, from where we travelled to East Beach. On leaving, I tried something I can manage quite easily in my solo machine: I negotiated a fairly narrow gap designed for pedestrians.

After taking the thorn out of my finger and checking that the patch of blood on my right upper arm wasn’t getting any larger, we carried on and at a junction found that we couldn’t pedal backwards to get the right hand pedal to 2 o’clock. The chain had jumped off the front ring. It was only a short job to replace it, but we were watched carefuly by two rottweilers whose job it was to guard an ostentatious development which appears to be destined for the ownership of some nefarious member of the Southend underworld, possibly Councillor Kelly.

At this point a fairly fit- and serious-looking young man on a mountain bike went past as though he meant business so, once under way, I resolved that we would overtake him. As we rounded Cupid’s Corner we achieved a personal best: there were some squeaks of protest from behind me as we actually leaned over to take the corner! We were indeed gaining on the mountain biker rapidly but then he cheated and turned off towards Foulness Island. We carried on along Wakering High Street until the temptation to visit one of my old haunts got the better of me. The Adnams at the White Hart is as good as ever, but the barmaids are not a patch on Margaret and Pauline, who years ago would ensure that regulars received the best of drinks at the most reasonable prices.

From here we sped through Little Wakering and towards Barling, the sun now dipping towards the horizon. Again we reached 20 mph or more, but this time the protests from behind were because our cadence rate was too high. Mucking Hall Road was a delight, the corn still green but with a coppery tinge imparted entirely by the sun’s glow. I remarked absent mindedly “Isn’t this just gorgeous?” and Jan agreed enthusiastically that it was.

On this occasion we avoided the “rough stuff” bridleway which takes well over a mile from the journey but would give all 96 spokes a real testing, installed as they are on narrow wheels with positively emaciated tyres. Instead we kept to the road, which in itself is almost rough stuff, and made or way back towards Sutton Road and the metropolis of Southend.

Imagine our pleasure when we met two tandemists coming in the opposite direction. “Well hello!” I hollered, they returned the compliment, and were gone. I hope we meet them again soon and can compare notes.

It was a really good ride of 17.45 miles and thoroughly enjoyed by pilot and stoker alike. I feel quite confident now about tackling a day ride on excess of 50 miles, provided it’s not too hot and there are regular stops.

18/06/2006

Sunday Morning Pootle

Filed under: Uncategorized — admin @ 8:35 PM

Posted on 18 June 2006

We made a real effort this morning. Up before 8, quick breakfast, fit the Cateye computer to Madge and off we went.

It promised to be a scorcher, but at this time although it wasn’t exactly cool, it was pleasant enough. Today we set off along Prittlewell Chase towards Belfairs Park and after an uneventful stretch of 30mph dual carriageway followed by a couple of fairly quiet residential roads, we turned “through roads not adopted and woodlanded ways” as a bridleway leading towards Poors Lane and Hadleigh invited us into the gloom.

There were some squeaks and protests emanating from behind me, but whether this was due to the uneven surface, the proximity of the trees, or the sheer excitement of diving off into the woods I am not certain. However, it wasn’t long before this rather muddy path was promoted to a track and eventually blossomed into a surfaced road.

We headed towards Dawes Heath Lane and eventually south into Rectory Road. A short distance later the John Burrows Hall appeared on our right, the home venue of the now-defunct Hadleigh Chess Club. We turned left into Scrub Lane, following the road straight back towards Belfairs Park where there were many people “spoiling a good walk”, as Mark Twain so aptly put it. We used one of the “cycle tracks” made infamous by the searing pen of Nutty, then back along Prittlewell Chase and home.

During the ride it was necessary to tighten the handlebar stem, whose bolts were looser than they should have been.

The total ride was 10.75 miles and we were home well before 10 a.m. That’s really important: if we can cover more than 10 miles in the first hour of the day, what can we do on a day ride? At that sort of pace, LEJoG in a fortnight becomes a distinct possibility…

17/06/2006

Chest pains

Filed under: Uncategorized — admin @ 8:30 PM

Posted on 17 June 2006

Had them in the night and again this morning. Decided that I ought to do something about it so Jan & I went to casualty.

After a whole afternoon of ECGs, blood tests, blood pressure tests, a chest X-ray and another blood test because the first one didn’t work properly, 5 hours later I was given a clean bill of health and told that I had probably pulled an intercostal muscle when riding my bike up Bread & Cheese Hill yesterday.

A very salutory experience in more ways than one.

Firstly, I was absolutely delighted with my cardiac performance. In all the times my blood pressure was checked (every 5 minutes or so the machine would take it automatically), the range was between 131 / 69 and 141 / 81. Typically my pulse rate was between 50 and 55. That’s pretty good for a middle-aged lard-arse.

Secondly, while we were waiting for the final blood test result to come along, I was moved out of A & E into the acute medical unit, i.e. I was admitted to a ward. It’s very sobering when a nurse comes and makes an inventory of your belongings and puts a name bracelet on your wrist. Suddenly you feel that you are no longer in control of your life.

Thirdly, now I know that I have the cardiovascular system of a finely-honed athlete, it only makes sense to get a body to match. I really must get my bloody weight down.

Fourthly, I was given a Hospital meal. I couldn’t survive on that! Denis informs me that the food in Southend is infinitely superior than the stuff served up at the Royal London.

Finally, the experience gave me an appreciation, which I certainly didn’t have before, of what my son has gone through over the past 12 years as his kidney disease has developed and has forced quite a few spells in hospital. I was an in-patient for about an hour and that’s more than enough for me!

06/06/2006

An evening stroll – 6th June 2006

Filed under: Uncategorized — admin @ 5:00 PM

We have had other things on our minds for the past couple of weeks, so cycling was rather neglected apart from or maiden voyage on Madge (Mrs. Wow chose this name: Claud Butler Madg-estic geddit??).

Today was the hottest June day for almost a year, so as the cool shades of evening spread their mantle, off we rode towards the sunset.

We headed towards the sea front along what should have been peaceful residential roads, but at one point it became clear that there was a car approaching from behind at too high a speed. I looked over my shoulder to see this oik give far too little room for Jan as he squeezed past, so I took the primary riding position just to show him who was boss, until a sufficient gap in the parked cars allowed me to pull in and let him pass. To my surprise, no fewer than 4 chavmobiles zoomed past, pretty much bumper to bumper, in a road allowing little more than one car’s width between the parked cars on opposite sides.

After that the ride was fairly uneventful, apart from finding our path blocked by a parked car just where a (reasonably sensibly designed) cycle lane rejoins the road. Then to the sea front and, ignoring the NO CYCLING signs, we kept on the almost deserted promenade as far as Chalkwell Station.

Jan cycles pretty well. She could probably do with her saddle raised a little, but given that her starting technique is still a little suspect, she could really do with more confidence before that happens. This is the perenniel chicken and egg. She needs to ride more to get the confidence, but generally she lacks the confidence to ride alone. (Actually, she did have a solo ride this week: she went to the doctor’s to collect the prescription I had ordered more than a week previously.)

We returned in an easterly direction, and when we were close to the pier, we sat on a wall looking at the rising tide and gibbous moon. It was an idyllic scene of peace and tranquillity broken only by the occasional curse and slap as another mosquito bit the dust. We were then joined by two other cyclists and conversed about the history of Southend, speculated about ithe pier’s status as the longest pleasure pier in the world, and about the three fires and one ship which have damaged it in the past 30 years or so.

We continued east along purpose built cycle track for another couple of miles until we were in Fatbloke country and then took the option with the most gradual ascent returning to Chateau Wowbagger. Just short of 11 miles, total time 1 hours 50 minutes, total riding time about 50 minutes less than that.

20/05/2006

Tadpoles

Filed under: Uncategorized — admin @ 10:13 AM

In early March I spotted some frogspawn in a slow-moving bit of stream fed only by the lake overflow in our local park. There was some there last year but I didn’t see any tadpoles – I think all the spawn was killed by a late frost.

This year, the spawn all hatched and for about a week all the tadpoles, thousands of them, stayed in about the same place, all wriggling just below the surface. They were well protected by lots of great reedmace stumps. Each day I took the dog to the park, so the tadpoles seemed to get bigger.

Then one day, just after Easter, someone had been into the water at that point, had pulled out a load of reedmace and dumped it on the bank. The water where the tadpoles had been was turbid with stirred-up mud and there were hardly any tadpoles – just the odd one swimming around in a confused state.

On the May Day bank holiday I was back at the water’s edge, looking at where the tadpoles had been, when some guy turned up with about 50 people, mostly children with a few parents, in tow. “I hope you don’t mind a bit of company,” he said to me, “We’ve some to do some pond dipping.”
“Someone has been here recently clearing out the vegetation,” I replied. “There were loads of tadpole here before they did that.”
“Oh yes, that was me. I wanted to clear out some of the old dead stuff so that we could get at the water more easily!”
I felt like drowning him. I haven’t seen any tadpoles there since.

19/05/2003

Beckie Walker

Filed under: Uncategorized — admin @ 9:11 PM

(Dictated to Denis Walker in 2003)

Life story transcript

Hello Kate. You want to know a little bit about what we did and when we did it. Well, I can tell you more or less from the start really.

I think about the first thing I can remember was my mother taking me to see one of her uncles, who would of course be my great uncle, and lived somewhere in London and he had a white Pomeranian dog and this dog greatly impressed me. I must have been about two then, I suppose – it was about the first thing I can remember.

Well then we went to live in a place called Sidcup in Kent when I was about two, I suppose. That was towards the end of the … that was during the first World War and we had two soldiers billeted on to us. And I was only a little tot at the time and one of them, he … they were both alright up to a certain point, but he used to do silly things like put his spoon in the cup and get it nice and hot and then put it on my hand and make me cry. And of course my mother was annoyed about that!

That was of course the 1914-18 war, and after Sidcup, we went to live in a place called Hockenden. That’s in Kent, between St Mary Cray and Swanley. There were only fourteen houses there and they were all scattered – farms and farm cottages, and we lived there for four years. It was very pleasant, but I remember the awful winters we had, and I used to have bad chilblains and I wore boots in those days because the weather was horrible and snowy, and I couldn’t get these boots on so of course I couldn’t go to school.

We lived there for four years and I got very friendly with a girl called {Rae Chaplin}. She lived in a farm just down the road. Well, her name really wasn’t Chaplin, it was Walters – her mother had married twice – and the second man was Chaplin. But her name was really Walters and her aunts, I don’t suppose you’d remember them, because they were Elsie and Doris Walters – they were comediennes… ooh, about 20 years ago or so – more than that now. You might remember them.

Anyhow, we lived there for four years and we went to Hextable School – we had about a mile and a half to walk each way, and there were quite a few children. There were fourteen scattered houses where we lived, and I suppose about half a dozen children who all walked to school together each day. But we didn’t go home to dinner – it was much too far. They did sell school dinners of a sort at those times, which cost us the princely sum of fourpence – old money – and we usually took sandwiches.

Anyhow, there was one time we were short of a teacher at school and one of the teachers said “I don’t suppose any of you know a teacher who would come and teach [for] us?” I went over and told my mother, and she said “Oh yes, I’ll come” in a jokey fashion and I took it literally and went back and said “Oh yes, my mother said she’d come.” And so they wrote to her and asked her to go and teach, and so she did. So she did a few months there supply work, never done any teaching before, but I think she got on alright.

Anyhow, we lived at Hockenden for four years, and {…} Rae Chaplin down the road, and we used to play in the barns during the winter and slide down the haystacks. And they had a nice meadow next to the farmhouse, with a pond, and a hammock {swing} beside it and it was very pleasant there. And occasionally we’d get to go out in a pony and trap. We didn’t have a car in those days – that was before many people had cars. And we used to go to Bexleyheath to see Elsie and Doris Walters and it was very pleasant.

The winters seemed to be colder than everywhere else. I don’t know why – perhaps it was because we were sort of rather isolated. At the bottom of the fields by our garden there were a lot of huts and at fruit picking time, eastenders – eastenders of London I assume – used to come out and live in these huts and pick the fruit. That happened for three or four weeks, August – September time, and in the October they’d have hop-picking time and they’d come again and live in these huts and pick the hops and then go back to London of course, afterwards. My mother always said “Now don’t you go near those huts – they’re full of fleas!”. We did catch one or two once or twice.

Now, what else did we do? Bill and I went to different schools. We started off by going to Hextable Wilmington School but my father took him away because he didn’t think it was such a good school and they sent him to {…} at Wilmington, because he particularly wanted him to pass the scholarship, which he did. And he went to Beckenham Grammar School and I stayed on at the same school and didn’t pass the scholarship. So I didn’t go to the Grammar School.

However, we lived at Hockenden for about four years, I suppose it was, and then we went to live at St. Paul’s Cray. Now, we lived in… there were eightee… no.. no there were not… a row of about thirty cottages – terraced cottages, they were – and we lived at number 18 and when your grandad came, he lodged at number 1 with a Mrs Smith. And he only lived just down the road.

And I went to the Temple Congregational Church – I went there for many years, and when I got older I used to teach in Sunday School class and we had lots of things going on in the church – I think there was something on nearly every night in the week. There was Girls’ Gym one night, and Boys’ Gym another night, then we had a devotional evening on one evening and drama night another night, and then they had a billiards table so they had billiards another night – there was always something going on. It was a very lively church and I quite enjoyed it.

And when I was older, I used to teach in Sunday School class there. It was quite pleasant. I had a class of fourteen at one time, which was rather big – they usually had classes of no more than six or eight. And we had a billiard table in the room at the back and my girls and I used to sit all round this billiard table – it was quite pleasant.

Anyhow, I belonged to the Drama group there and we always did a play every year, and the first one I think I was in was ‘The Farmer’s Wife’. I don’t know how old I would have been – about sixteen or eighteen perhaps, something like that. And they put on a play every year, and the last one they did was ‘The Barretts of Wimpole Street’ and that was the year before war broke out, and after that, of course, it all finished up and closed down because the war sort of knocked everything out.

Now, the war started on September the third. Great day, isn’t it – your birthday! We’d been expecting things to happen because it was Sunday morning, and I didn’t go to church, which I normally did and your grandad came along and we were expecting some sort of declaration to be made over the radio, and it was. And at eleven o’clock, they said war had broken out. Panic all round! My mother promptly turned the oven off, because she thought ‘Well, if there’s a war on, we shaln’t eat our joint’, and poor old Mrs Smith with whom your grandad lodged, she in a panic took her joint out of the oven and put it in the ashes!

Everybody thought bombs were going to be dropped any minute, and of course nothing happened. Nothing happened for about a year. And then of course, after that, the war really did start and bombs were dropping on London and south-east London. And your grandad had been called up – July the twelfth, nineteen… whatever it was… forty… forty-one, I suppose it was, and he had gone abroad and so I was left on my own, and whilst he was abroad, Geoffrey was born, and grandma and grandad had gone to live at Shotgate for grandad’s health, because he had asthma, and the doctor said “You want to get near Southend – that’s about the best place for asthma sufferers”.

And so they got to Shotgate, which was reasonably near, and they said “Well, you’d better come to live with us”, which I did. So I packed up our furniture and stored it, and went to live with them at Shotgate.

Well then Geoffrey was born in 1941, and he was a lovely baby. There was only one thing wrong with him – he didn’t develop as he should have done, and the doctor… I took him to doctors and specialists, they said “There’s nothing wrong with him, mother, nothing wrong at all – he’s just backward,” and of course, he wasn’t just backward – he didn’t develop as he should, and of course he had muscular dystrophy.

Now let me see… Shotgate… Yes, I lived with grandma and grandad for about a year, and then I got a part of a bungalow on my own – the people had stored their furniture into one room, and they’d been evacuated to the Lake District and the man had gone there with his job, and so I took their bungalow for the rest of the war years, and I got my furniture moved, and it was quite pleasant there, with this bungalow to myself and Geoffrey. I used to dig the garden and grow vegetables and do the usual things that housewives do, and I used to belong to a WI at Rawreth, which is about a mile or so away. I used to walk there to the WI once a month – that was very pleasant – and grandma used to go too.

Err… what else did we do? Oh, we went to Wickford to church – usually to the Methodist church, and it’s still there, but of course we didn’t go afterwards when they moved down to {…} wherever they were … let me see, I’ve lost myself … ah yes … I lived with them for a while, then I got a bungalow of my own where the people had gone away – I told you – and I lived there for the rest of the war years.

And then grandad came home – that was 1945, I suppose, and he hadn’t seen Geoffrey until he was about three and a half. Then he went to Bognor Regis for a year – teacher training. It was a kind of a very quick training – they wanted teachers badly and they wanted them quickly, so they gave them just a year training and grandad went on that to Bognor for a year, so I was on my own again just with Geoffrey, and then of course after that, we went to live in Wickford – we got a prefab – and after that we went to live in Billericay, and we lived there a few years, and then finally we bought the house that you knew in Ramsden Heath and lived there for forty-two years.

The poor old house has been knocked down now – and they’re going to build a lot of flats on it, they haven’t started yet. Yes they have. They have started, oh. They’ve laid the foundations, I think and I think there are going to be about twenty-one flats on our garden and the plot next door.

Let me see… where are we now? Now we came to live with Uncle Peter and Aunty Janet, I suppose it must be two years ago last February. They took the two poor old souls in! And we’ve been here quite happily ever since. It was a bit of a wrench leaving all our belongings, because we couldn’t bring much here, and we got rid of a few things round the family, and I don’t know what happened to the rest of the things – I think we left them in the house and I suppose when the people came to demolish it, they just threw the furniture on the bonfire or whatever. And here we are – we’ve been here two years last February I think it is. I don’t know what grandad has been telling you, but he’s probably told you all about living here, has he? No, he didn’t actually mention that.

Ah, anyhow. You know the family here – Uncle Peter and Aunty Janet and then there are the four youngsters, though Ellen doesn’t live here any more – she’s got a flat in London and she works up there. Denis – he’s got a flat, and he sleeps – he has bed and breakfast at home – the rest of the time, he seems to spend here – reasonably happily, I think. It’s nice having him here. And Graham’s at school and he finishes this year and hopes to go to University in September/October. No, he’s taking a year out. Oh, he’s taking a year out – ah, I’m not up to date, and Heather, of course, is still at school. I think that just about disposes of it.

Grandad and I keep reasonably well. We are both getting older and more feeble, unfortunately. We’ll leave it there at the moment. Perhaps I’ll think of something else to say later.


Hello Kate. Another installment.

You didn’t ask anything about Jack. Well, I’ll tell you a little bit of what I know about him. We don’t see him very often, but your mum brought him over here the last time we saw him but we do see Daniel occasionally. He brings him over, ooh, a couple of times a year I suppose, something like that. But he’s a devoted father – good thing he is – and Jack’s a lovely little boy.

Of course, he’s speaking a bit now – not as well as he would do if he could hear properly, but he’s a very bright child. Rather on the agressive side, I found him, but a nice little boy and the few times he’s been here he’s dashed around the house like mad and I think he thoroughly enjoyed himself.

We haven’t seen him lately – your mum brought him over the last time he came. We hope to see him during the August holidays, you know, when the children are home from school. Daniel will be able to bring him over, I expect.

He’s getting on alright at school. I think he goes to the ordinary school now, which has a special section for his type of child and I think he’s getting on alright from what I have heard. We’ll leave it there for a moment and I’ll think of something else to say later.


I want to say a little bit about the family.

Ellen, I think, is going to go in for teaching and she’s certainly doing a certain amount of it at the moment. Denis is err… he works locally – some sort of computing job. Graham’s going to have a year out before he goes to University, wherever that is – I don’t think he yet knows. Meanwhile, he’s very busy – he plays the keyboards in a band and they have quite a few engagements. Heather, of course, is still at school. I was asking her one day what she wanted to do and she said hadn’t any idea. I don’t think many people have at her age. Peter, of course, is a chess coach – I expect you know all that – and Janet helps Peter and she does a lot of knitting and crochet and handiwork – she’s very good at that sort of thing.

On with the other family. Now, Tom, he’s going to be something or other in the city – heaven knows what – whatever people do in the city. William’s going in for being a doctor so he’s got to have several years’ training. Now, Nick’s at Sheffield University. I think it’s the end of his second year there – I don’t know what he’s going to do afterwards.

Now Phyllis fell down the stairs and broke her ankle… ooh, must be about a year ago now and she decided she… well she couldn’t go upstairs to bed… so her bed was brought downstairs and then she decided she’d have to move which she has done and she’s got a bungalow near here in Southend so she’s reasonably handy – not within walking distance, but a short car ride from here. And she’s moved in quite recently. I think she’ll be quite happy here. She’s not exactly straight yet, but I think getting there. And quite a nice sized garden. She’ll have to have a gardener, I expect, to keep it tidy for her, but it’s mostly grass with beds all round the edge.

That’s all for that at the moment.

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