This England Summer 2014

For all wholove our green

and pleasant land

SUMMER 2014Quarterly

£4.75

TH

IS E

NG

LAN

DQ

uarterly

SU

MM

ER

2014V

olu

me Fo

rty Seven

Nu

mb

er Tw

o

Cliffs and caves at Thornwick Bay, Yorkshire. DERYCK LISTER HALLAM

I do not see my church in rules and regulation,But I see my church in the glory of creation.I see my church in God’s devotion,In the towering mountains and in the restless ocean.Church does not have to be made of stone and clay,I see my church in a summer garden on a beautiful day,And when I look up to the Milky Way.I find my church by a quiet stream,In that quiet place where I can rest and dream.I find my church in the valleys and the hillsAnd when I see the golden daffodils.Yes, I find my church in all creation,God’s power beyond imagination.

ARTHUR S. MAGEE

My Church

te cov summer 14 without.indd All Pages 24/04/2014 09:39

The Historic Homes of EnglandPackwood House, Lapworth, Warwickshire

Starting out as a farmhouse, Packwood was built for John Fetherston in the mid-16th century. The building was transformed over successive centuries, but remained in the Fetherston family until 1876. The Birmingham industrialist Alfred Ash bought Packwood in 1904 and it was inherited by his son, Graham Baron Ash, in 1925.

As a fine art connoisseur, he lavished much care in restoring the house to its original Tudor character.

Baron Ash gave Packwood to the National Trust in 1941 and today’s visitors can enjoy seeing his superb collections of tapestries and furniture from the 16th to 18th centuries. Outside there are similar treasures to discover including the magnificent yew garden, with more than 100 trees, the kitchen garden and colourful herbaceous borders. Walks in the surrounding parkland provide the ideal opportunity to explore the glorious Warwickshire countryside. A wide programme of events for all the family also takes place throughout the year.

For further information telephone 01564 782024 or go to www.nationaltrust.org.uk

BRIAN HOPPER

See enclosed “Shop Window” for details of our Desk Diary —

the ideal companion.

Celebrate the scenic splendour of our green and pleasant land

with This England’s Country Calendar 2015. A selection of 15 superb photographs takes you on a marvellous journey across the English counties from Northumberland to Norfolk and Cumberland to Cornwall. The wonderful views capture the breathtaking beauty of the English countryside amid all the seasons.

Each monthly section includes verses of poetry, and details of important events — saints’ days, anniversaries, bank holidays etc. There’s space beside each day for you to jot down your own appointments. Days and dates are printed in contrasting colours enabling you to see the weeks at a glance.

For more than 30 years it has been one of the best-selling calendars in Britain, but it is exclusive and only available direct from This England. Next year’s calendar is bound to be a sell-out once again and if you take advantage of our special discount (see below) the price is reduced.

This England’s Country Calendar 2015 is the perfect gift to send to anyone who cherishes England, and one which will continue to give pleasure throughout the year.

Enjoy England Throughout the Year

Cwith Calendar 201515 superb photographs takes you on a marvellous journey across the English counties from Northumberland to Norfolk and Cumberland to Cornwall. The wonderful views capture the breathtaking beauty of the English countryside amid all the seasons.

events — saints’ days, anniversaries, bank holidays etc. There’s space beside

“We were absolutely delighted to receive the This England calendar. You have no idea how much happiness and joy it brings to us, all the beautiful photographs evoking memories of past days.”— VALDA & GORDON BUCKTON, AUSTRALIA.

Available only from the publishers.

(all major cards accepted)

Not on sale in shops!

Please order early to avoid disappointmentOrder now for delivery in August

“As every year, the pictures and verses are beautiful.”

— MRS. H. HARRISON, BRADFORD, YORKSHIRE.

Makes an ideal gift for Christmas.

Don’t delay phone today

01795 412823(Mon-Fri 8am-8pm, Sat 9am-1pm)

Overseas: +44 1795 412823

Actual size when open — 17" x 11"

Each calendar comes with a card gift envelope

Post your order to: This England (sales), P.O. Box 326, Sittingbourne, Kent, ME9 8BR. www.shopwindow-online.co.uk E-mail: [email protected]

1 copy £5.45 £6.95 $14 $15 $16 $18

3 to one address £13 £18 $36 $38 $40 $46

6 to one address £24 £36 $72 $76 $80 $92

10 to one address £36 £50 $99 $105 $110 $127

Delivery to: UK Overseas USA Can Aus NZ

PRICES (inc. post & packing) Overseas sent by airmail

Code: TSD153

Code: TSD156

Code: TSD15T

Code: TSD151

inside cover sum14.indd All Pages 22/04/2014 14:55

12 The Historic Homes of England:

Packwood House, Lapworth, Warwickshire Brian Hopper14 Norfolk Arthur Tisdall VC10 The Editor’s Letter Stephen Garnett12 A Royal History of England: King Henry VI Paul James16 Anyone for Croquet? Angeline Wilcox19 Exploring English Surnames Thomas Bartholomew20 English Excursions —

24 A Child’s Memory of an English Garden Juliet Lockwood26 Great Britons: Eric Brown, Hero of the Skies Nicholas Jones30 Poets’ Corner Susan Kelleher31 Sandwich Board —

32 Pushing a Pram down Memory Lane Angeline Wilcox34 Nelson’s Column: Keeping an eye on the nation George Nelson36 ‘We Do Like to be Beside the Seaside’: Ken Dodd Bernard Bale40 Centenary of the First World War: Edgar Mobbs Dorothy Priest42 Post Box: Letters to the Editor —

43 Silver Cross of St. George: Derek Bennett George Nelson48 Forget-Me-Nots: Mining Stock Denise Watson50 Morden Times Peter Adams51 Made in England: Love Hearts —

52 Portrait of a Village: Southwick, Hampshire Diana Coode54 Remembering 1966

and our national football team’s finest hour Roger Mutch57 Only in England —

58 England’s Unsung Composers: Joseph Holbrooke Em Marshall-Luck60 Walking the Wey Vincent Price64 In England — Now!: Hot off the Press in Ledbury Mike Charity66 Cornucopia —

70 English Books —

74 English Diary —

84 My Church Arthur S. Magee

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

Editor: Stephen GarnettDeputy Editor: Angeline WilcoxAssistant Editors: Susan Kelleher,

Peter WorsleyMedia: Edmund WhitehouseProduction: Ann Augur, Keren BowersMusic Editor: Percy BickerdykeRecording Engineer: Eric HolmesAdvertising: Charlotte HigginsEditorial Secretary: Christine Freeman

Head of Publishing: Neil O’Brien

Summer 2014

. . . is a quarterly journal published inSpring, 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):Autumn 2014: 20th Aug.; Winter 2014: 5th Nov.; Spring 2015: 18th Feb.; Summer 2015: 20th May.

As Glastonbury Tor looms large on the horizon, two young fishermen hope for a bite in the River Brue.CHRISTOPHER NICHOLSON

Sales/Subscriptions:This England, PO Box 326, Sittingbourne, Kent, ME9 8BR.Telephone: UK 01795 412823

Overseas +44 1795 412823E-mail: [email protected]: www.thisengland.co.uk

Editorial:This England, The Lypiatts, Lansdown Road,Cheltenham, Gloucestershire, GL50 2JA.Telephone: UK 01242 225780

Overseas +44 (0) 1242 225780E-mail: [email protected]

Printed in England by Webmart Ltd, OX26 4UL Distributed by Marketforce, The Blue Fin Building,110 Southwark Street, London, SE1 0SU.© 2014 This England Publishing Ltd.

Articles and photographs submitted for publication must be accompanied by a stamped addressed envelope 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.

Page Contents SUMMER 2014 Source/Contributor

THIS ENGLAND, Summer, 2014 3

contents su14.indd 3 28/04/2014 15:32

Think of The Blue Danube,” said Klim Seabright encouragingly as he put me through my tentative paces on the croquet lawn. This musical reference is, he

explained, the best way to describe the pace and flow required to hit the ball with the mallet.

Croquet? Yes, that’s right, the game that you often see depicted in sepia photographs of Victorian and Edwardian country house parties. You might, perhaps, be more familiar with it through the pages of Lewis Carroll’s Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, or when a certain politician, namely John Prescott, was pictured leaning nonchalantly on his mallet at his country residence in 2006. According to Klim, who is Secretary and Coach at Cheltenham Croquet Club, that particular photograph led to a 250 per cent increase in the sales of croquet sets.

I have always been curious about croquet. Visits to various National Trust properties, where lawns are set up for the game, have confirmed that it is a popular attraction with visitors of all ages, but is there any interest on an everyday level? And is it as English as it seems?

Wanting to find out more, I went to the Cheltenham club, which is also home to the sport’s national governing body, The Croquet Association. Standing at the edge of one of the meticulously mowed lawns and under Klim’s expert eye, I held a wooden mallet firmly in both hands. I aimed the face (that’s the short side for the uninitiated!) at the blue ball in front of me. “Bend your knees a bit,” said Klim, “swing the mallet back, keep your eyes on the ball and follow through the stroke, so the mallet comes up off the ground.” With The Blue Danube

playing in my mind I followed his instructions and, I hit the ball! No matter that it trickled rather than thundered along, at least I didn’t miss.

Over the next hour, Klim patiently and good humouredly showed me the two different types of the game played in this country: Golf Croquet and Association Croquet. Basically, the object of both is to score points by hitting the balls through the six cast iron hoops laid out on the 35 x 28-yard lawn. You can play with two or four players (singles or doubles) — in singles each player plays with two balls (blue and black against red and yellow). In Golf Croquet the order of play follows the coloured stripes on the wooden peg in the centre of the lawn and each game involves two circuits of the lawn, progressing through the hoops in a certain order.

Golf croquet is the slightly simpler, but none-the-less skilled version of the game where just one type of stroke is used to hit the ball, whereas Association Croquet is more technical incorporating various different shots such as the “roquet”, “croquet” and “continuation”, which are used to achieve a “break”. It’s easy to see why Klim said croquet can be likened to “a cross between snooker and chess on a lawn”. And, although it is played at a sedate pace, it is an intensely tactical game — especially the Association variety — where you line up your shots and try to limit your opponent’s chances.

After my coaching session, we headed inside the delightful wooden clubhouse — its walls lined with mallets and honours boards displaying champions’ names dating back to the 19th century. So what are the origins and history of croquet? “There’s a debate regarding whether it came to England from

Ireland or France,” said Klim.

16 THIS ENGLAND, Summer, 2014

“

Anyonefor Croquet?

“Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland” features a game of croquet with fl amingoes used as mallets and hedgehogs as balls!

Tournament at Cheltenham Croquet Club. KLIM SEABRIGHT

croquet anyone.indd 16 24/04/2014 09:15

“That’s lost in the mists of time, but what you can say with certainty — and I’ve seen the primary evidence — is that England drew up the rules, which is fairly typical if you think about it.”

Klim showed me a picture of Chastleton House, in Oxfordshire, where the rules of croquet were codified by Walter Jones Whitmore (formerly Whitmore Jones) and published in 1866. As a result of this, England is considered to be the home of the game. Bearing in mind those grand houses like Chastleton and the titled names that appear on the club’s honours boards, does the game still have an elitist image? “I think there is that,” replied Klim, “but things have changed. Well, I’m the kid from the council estate.”

Having retired from cricket Klim saw an advert for an open day at the Cheltenham club 10 years ago and decided to give it a try. He was hooked.

As we chatted in the clubhouse two other members, Mike and Eileen, came along and both admitted that they once thought croquet was the exclusive preserve of multi-millionaires. “We wouldn’t have dreamt of coming here before the open day,” said Eileen. Mike laughed and added: “People have those stickers saying ‘Croquet is OK’.”

Cheltenham is one of the largest clubs in the country, with 200 members and 11 lawns. In 2002 the Croquet Association moved its headquarters there and Klim explained that most of the 190 clubs in England and Wales are affiliated to the Association.

The game’s greatest following is among retired people, but as Klim pointed out: “It never ceases to amaze me the number of people who’ve got early retirement. The bulk of our membership is 50-plus, going on into their 80s, but I’m really keen that we get younger people too.”

In his position as Secretary and Coach, Klim is involved in arranging the club’s Taster Days and organises corporate events. He’s also introduced Scout groups and schools to the game. “Once you get them out there playing you can’t stop them,” he enthused.

At top competition and international level there are many players in their twenties and thirties and Klim told

me that 10 universities including Oxford, Cambridge, Durham, Southampton and York have croquet clubs. Last year’s student championship involved 200 competitors and Klim has a theory about why youngsters are suited to the rigours of top competitions. “It’s not a strength issue, I think it’s to do with concentration levels. With the top sides it’s a five-day test match and, generally, the younger you are the better you’re able to

concentrate.” It might be

regarded as a very English game, but

croquet is played in many other countries. “Apart from the UK you’ve got New Zealand, Australia, Canada, the United States,” said Klim, “and then you’ve got what are known in the game as the emerging nations, they are most of the Scandinavian countries, then there’s Spain, Austria, Italy and France to a limited extent.” The premier world team championship is the MacRobertson Shield, which was played earlier this year with New Zealand defeating England in the final.

Taking into account the international interest I asked Klim if it’s ever been considered as an Olympic or Commonwealth sport? “It’s been talked about, but Olympic-wise there was

difficulty in being able to demonstrate that it was played on every continent,” he replied. “It was a demonstration sport at the 2002 Commonwealth Games in Manchester and croquet was played in the Paris Olympics in 1900, but never since. It would be nice though.”


‘A cross between snooker and chess on a lawn.’

Below: Klim Seabright, Secretary and Coach at Cheltenham.

Right: One of the club’s honours boards.

Chastleton House, Oxfordshire, where the rules of the game were drawn up. GRAHAM GOUGH

�

croquet anyone.indd 17 24/04/2014 09:16

Eunice Hepzibah Harris’s garden in East Sussex will never go down in gardening history like Gertrude Jekyll’s or Vita Sackville-West’s, but this wonderful garden remains

firmly implanted in my memory more than 60 years later. As a child of about ten, from a London council estate, I had precious holidays with Auntie Eunice at various times of the year.

She was not a real aunt — just a friend of my grandmother, widowed and living with her spinster sister. Besides some of today’s fashionable gardens I suppose this large garden a few miles from Eastbourne was very ordinary in design, but to a child from a concrete jungle, this was paradise.

Let me take you there — through a swinging gate, the front lawn bordered by shrubs and perennials, names of which I remember to this day, past the green and gold shrubbery, home to singing blackbirds, thrushes, blue tits and robins, the adjacent back door always open where a daring resident robin would sit on the mat, head cocked on one side and await his morning titbits.

Perhaps the robin should lead us round Eunice Hepzibah’s garden of many surprises. He knows it so well, past the tall neatly clipped hedge, which only he can see over. There is an air of secrecy for we do not know what to expect. First stop the shed with its musty smells. Robin knows how important this is for inside are Eunice Hepzibah’s winter stores of fruit and vegetables for the coming year. No deep-freeze in those days, just a shed and a cool larder. Fruit bottled, jams made, potatoes, apples, beetroot and other vegetables stored in boxes.

Robin perches on an upright spade while we gasp as we enter the first of many arches just dripping with perfumed roses. This one — Albertine, the queen of climbing roses. We do not want to move on, but robin hops ahead trying to tell us there is so much more. The lingering scent of pink Albertine following us, we take the path to enter the meadow-like lawn fringed by herbaceous

borders. No order here, just wild colourful chaos. Stately verbascums, lupins, delphiniums, foxgloves, hollyhocks rise like tall soldiers at the back of this true cottage border. Montbretia clumps (as Auntie Eunice called it — I know it now as crocosmia) force a space, masses of yellow loosestrife, linara seeding at will, exquisite blue and white tall campanula forming a backdrop to this artist’s palette. Slightly shorter sweet williams, phlox, penstemons and poppies bursting into bloom at various times in every nook and cranny, fighting for space, supporting each other. A mad profusion of scent and

The author (left) in her schooldays.

A Child’s Memory A Child’s Memory of an English Gardenof an English Garden

Childs gdn memory.indd 24 24/04/2014 11:37

colour. Colour which I know will turn to burnt oranges and hot golds when I return at the end of the school holidays as the rudbeckias and echinaceas, together with the wandering nasturtiums, will set this garden on fire almost until November covers it in ghostly shrouds. Enough of this dreaming our robin says...

On through the next rose arch of perfect, pure white Iceberg. How could one plant have so many flowers? We round the corner to the soft fruit garden — wonder to a child of ten who had never seen these fruits growing; strawberries, raspberries, cages of red, black and white currants. So secluded by a high hedge, a miracle space, heady with mouth-watering smells. I was allowed to taste, my fingers and mouth stained with scarlet juice. That fresh flavour has remained with me for ever, together with that of freshly dug new potatoes flavoured with mint and the taste of the runner beans cut so finely with an old knife sharpened on the doorstep by Sally, Auntie Eunice’s sister. When I pick my first runner beans in the summer I always remember her.

Another rose arch awaits us — Handel-covered this time and straight ahead is the vegetable garden. Wide eyed I survey the row upon row of hilled up potatoes; the spires of runner beans, purple tinged leaves above the ground housing round beetroot beneath, feathery carrot tops, peas in pods — not in tins. There was every kind of vegetable, salad crops, herbs — some to be stored, some bottled, made in to chutney, and the rest eaten all summer long. No need to go to the greengrocer when you stayed here. And still there was more — where the vegetables ended the orchard began and in the last week of the holidays I was allowed to pick and eat Worcester Pearmain apples (but not without Auntie Eunice supervising that I picked them correctly) — my favourite to this day.

Memories, memories, robins, forget-me-nots, pansies, grannies bonnets, raspberries, beetroot cooked and sprinkled with sugar — Eunice Hepzibah gave me a gift as a ten-year-old which I cherish to this day and much of it is now contained in my tiny45 x 22 foot garden in West Sussex by the sea.

In my little garden I have tried to squeeze in all her special plants, and more! Vegetables and herbs are in containers, in old paint pots, buckets, anything that will hold compost. Climbers are packed three or four to any vertical object, roses galore fill any spare space. A tripod of Painted Lady runner beans rise from the packed borders. A fig tree clings to the south-facing fence with a grape vine creeping through it; an olive tree pokes its head through the pergola hoping for a hot summer. A New Zealand leptospermum flowers in pink perfection, star jasmine races up one pergola casting heady perfume in summer and reddened leaves in autumn. Bees and

butterflies flit from flower to flower enjoying their closeness. So small, but so full this little piece of heaven, a legacy from the past buzzes with life. A small wildlife pond is squeezed in where damselflies with gossamer wings dance to the sound of the bees’ music and frogs and newts play hide and seek.

Wherever I look in summer these days I see excerpts from Auntie Eunice’s garden — tomatoes hang from the wall, cucumbers trail in the mini greenhouse, Iceberg and Albertine roses clamber up trellis and over walls and I feel Eunice Hepzibah amongst the packed borders. The legacy she left a young child is worth more than anything money can buy. Eunice Hepzibah Harris — your name may not appear in gardening history, but it is written in my soil.

JULIET LOCKWOOD

The author at work in her garden today.

Unfortunately, due to sudden illness, our gardening correspondent Rosemary Pettigrew was unable to prepare her regular “Notes from a Cottage Garden” feature.The article will return in the autumn, so please do continue to send her your comments, questions and advice. Her e-mail address is [email protected] you can write to her at our editorial offi ce: This England,The Lypiatts, Lansdown Road, Cheltenham, Gloucestershire GL50 2JA.

of an English Gardenof an English Garden

Childs gdn memory.indd 25 24/04/2014 09:23

The aircraft carrier might pitch 60 feet in the stormy sea, rolling in awful weather.

Landing was virtually impossible but we had to get back.”

In his discreet Sussex home, Captain Eric Brown RN calmly recalls life as a Fleet Air Arm fighter pilot in the Battle of the Atlantic, over 70 years ago. Misjudge landing in such circumstances and the carrier’s upward pitch could catapult the aircraft into the ocean. Below, German U-boats lurked; overhead, German reconnaissance aircraft guided them to British convoys. Eric’s job was to shoot them down first.

To such men we owe our freedom. Yet listening to Captain Brown one feels not just gratitude but awe. I’ve been privileged to spend hours doing so, while making my feature-length documentary Eric Brown — A Pilot’s Story. In this film, Eric recalls his amazing life and career as a test pilot. He is widely considered to be Britain’s greatest aviator.

Astonishingly, he’s also the man who identified Himmler after his capture. But for some skulduggery, he would also have been the first man to break the sound barrier.

Eric’s 95th birthday (he was born in Leith in 1919) was in January. Looking back, he can see flying was in the blood. His father had been a balloon observer in the Royal Flying Corps during the Great War, a most hazardous duty. He was training as a pilot when war ended and remained in the newly formed RAF, later joining an auxiliary squadron.

Eric says his father “indoctrinated” him into flying. He recalls the huge oil painting of his father in his RFC uniform dominating the lounge in his childhood home. When he was just 8, his father

took Eric up in a biplane for his first flight. On his father’s knee, Eric handled the aircraft’s stick. He was captivated by the experience: somehow, I doubt any father would try this exercise today.

Thus began a flying career that would lead Eric Brown CBE, DSC, AFC to create records that will never be broken. He has flown 487 different aircraft types and landed on an aircraft carrier 2,407 times. He is the Fleet Air Arm’s most decorated living pilot and a former ADC to the Queen (“a wonderful woman”).

Perhaps the most intriguing aspect of this great Briton’s life is the role Germany played in it. Eric has been going there every decade since the 1930s, albeit for diverse reasons.

His father belonged to an inter-war association of British and German ex-combat pilots, whereby the gentlemen of the sky met to socialise. Their 1936 venue was Berlin, for the Olympics. Eric was taken along. Ernst Udet, the Flying Circus ace, was a member. He took Eric for a hair-raising flight and urged him to pursue his flying — and his German.

At Edinburgh, Eric flew with its University Air Squadron. He returned to Germany to teach English as part of his languages course. He noticed why Nazism captivated so many Germans: it created a sense of excitement (and jobs).

“It’s a great mistake to take away a nation’s pride,” says Eric — as we did in 1919 with the Treaty of Versailles. Hitler had clearly restored it.

The Fuhrer’s recklessness eventually impacted on Eric. On 3rd September 1939 a thunderous 6am knock awoke him. A lady said “we are now at war”. Three days in an SS jail followed, before he was

repatriated with his MG. For Eric, the war was starting.

Filming Eric Brown — A Pilot’s Story, I was taken back to a different Britain. Eric’s testimony recalled a world power — but one now facing the greatest threat in its history. The Fleet Air Arm urgently needed pilots so Eric switched over from the RAF. Sub-lieutenant Brown RNVR had to retrain, the naval way. The goal was deck-landing, the ultimate flying skill. Eric quickly mastered the art of spotting the matchbox in the sea that suddenly looms large — and landing on it.


Eric in 1954 when he was Commander of 804 Squadron, flying Hawker Sea Hawks.

Hero of The SkiesEric Brown

“

Great Britons - summer.indd 26 22/04/2014 12:41

In late 1941 he set sail on the carrier HMS Audacity, one of eight pilots flying Grumman Martlets to protect the merchantmen on the Liverpool-Gibraltar convoys. They had to find the Luftwaffe’s Kurier maritime patrol aircraft before the latter spotted the convoy and signalled its position to the U-boats.

A Kurier soon appeared; it bombed the convoy’s hospital ship. Eric’s CO went up to intercept. Despite hitting the Kurier, its gunner fired back. Within minutes of take-off, Eric’s CO was dead. The Kuriers made a formidable enemy but Eric devised a way to attack them. He brought down two and was awarded the DSC.

On the second return to Liverpool, the Audacity was sunk by a U-boat. The casualties were horrific. Many were rescued by escort vessels but some had to be left when the U-boat was again detected. Eric and 25 others roped themselves together to survive the freezing Atlantic. Hypothermia killed 24, leaving just Eric and another pilot. Their Mae Wests saved them.

Back in Britain, Eric was unexpectedly transferred to test flying. His deck-landing prowess had been noticed. He was first tasked with landing Hurricanes on escort carriers. In the exciting, dangerous and unpredictable world of test-flying, Eric quickly expanded the realm of flight. In 1944 he pioneered deck-landing twin-engined aircraft, flying a Mosquito. This extraordinary feat opened the navy’s eyes to combat possibilities.

By now, the USAAF 8th Army’s Flying Fortresses were in Britain, from where they bombed Germany. Yet their fighter escorts kept losing control, as they unwittingly approached the sound barrier. At Farnborough Eric helped find the solution: Mustangs fitted with Rolls-Royce Merlin engines. They were more manoeuvrable than the US-engined version when diving at very high speeds. This saved the USAAF 8th.

The jet age had also begun. Eric had had a preview back in 1941 when forced to land at RAF Cranwell, the day before Frank Whittle’s pioneer Gloster E28/39 jet plane first flew. Today, he’s one of just two surviving witnesses of this flight.

In 1944 Eric himself became one of the very first jet pilots, flying the E28/39. He loved the transition. As the Allies brought back captured German aircraft, Eric’s job was to evaluate them, as CO “Enemy Captured Flight”. That year, we discovered Germany also had jet aircraft. As the war neared its end, Eric went to Germany to seek out its wind-tunnels, jet and rocket aircraft and designers.

Discovering his fluency in German, the British Army asked him to identify a man who denied he was Heinrich Himmler. Eric soon uncovered him. He also detoured to a place called Belsen. Entering the typhus-ridden concentration camp rocked his admiration for German

culture. His interrogation of the vile Irma Grese, commandant of Belsen’s female camp, could draw no clue as to the source of her malevolence.

“These are the sort of evil people one can find in a nation,” Eric quietly concludes.


HMS Audacity, which was sunk in 1941 when Eric was on board, and (below) four years later when, flying a de Havilland Vampire, he made the first successful take-off and landing of a jet aircraft on a carrier.

In 1946 Brown test flew the de Havilland DH 108, almost breaking the sound barrier. The plane was later lost in a fatal accident.

‘In 1944 Eric became one of the very first jet pilots’

F

Great Britons - summer.indd 27 22/04/2014 12:41

Chatham’s Historic Dockyard is a fascinating place to visit — one which resonates with centuries of Britain’s maritime heritage, but many people will have seen it in

a different guise: on the small screen where it features as one of the locations in the popular and heart-warming BBC television series Call the Midwife.

With this in mind, it’s fitting that this summer the Dockyard is hosting an event that will evoke a wealth of memories from the nursery rather than the navy. On Saturday, 12th July, hundreds of vintage pram collectors from Britain and abroad will be gathering for Pramtasia 2014. This day-long celebration will see enthusiasts — “prammies” as they are affectionately known — parading in vintage costumes and sharing their perambulating passions through a series of talks and seminars. These include a presentation by Jeffrey Noble Wilson, a former chairman of the famous Silver Cross pram company, which was founded by his great grandfather. There will also be numerous stalls and displays linked to dolls’ and

babies’ prams from bygone times.

The inspiration for Pramtasia came from three friends: Beth Huckstep (Editor of the quarterly collectors’ magazine Perambulator Times), Christine Horne and Frances Napper. They met through their shared interest, which

they all say started in childhood with dolls’ prams and then progressed when they were allowed to push neighbours’ babies in prams. As they recall: “The bigger and better the pram, the more often the baby was taken out!”

Beth has been a serious collector for more than 17 years and, like many fellow prammies, she has had more than 300 prams during that time, but she’s recently reduced her collection to just 112! Christine currently has nine full-size and three dolls’ prams, which date from the 1920s through to the 1970s. Her husband, who she describes as “very accommodating”, helps her repair and renovate the prams and allows her to store them in the garage, dining room and bedrooms!

Christine’s current favourite is her 1950s Royale Princess. Meanwhile, Frances has three babies’ and two dolls’ prams, and the Royale Lincoln, which she used for her first child in 1969, is understandably particularly special to her. With all of these prams between them you can appreciate why they say it is an “addictive” pastime.

To find these treasured prams, the three friends go to local auction houses or internet auction sites. Many of the prams are in poor condition, so the prammies will roll up their sleeves and set about restoring them.

Some of the oldest and rarest prams can fetch thousands of pounds. The earliest ones, from the mid-18th century, resembled tiny carriages, which were pulled along by adults.


Pushing a Pram down Memory Lane

prams2.indd 32 24/04/2014 09:21


�

In 1840 the first perambulator manufacturer opened a factory producing a type of bath chair (three-wheeled and forward-facing) and when Queen Victoria bought three of these for her children she set a trend. By the 1870s four-wheeled bassinets were in production with handles at both ends

to make it easier to turn in a confined space.One of Britain’s most prolific pram collectors was a

gentleman called Jack Hampshire who housed Britain’s only pram museum at his home, Bettenham Manor, in Kent. He amassed 400 prams from the 1700s to the 1970s and, following his death, some of these were transferred to The Baby Farm, in Pailton, Warwickshire, where they now form the Jack Hampshire Museum.

Probably the best-known British pram manufacturer is Silver Cross, which was established in 1877 and is still in business today, but Frances, Beth and Christine recite a list of once-familiar names, among them: Churchill, Dennette, Leeway, Hitchings, Millsons, Marmet, Pedigree, Swallow, and a host of others. As they point out: “Many of the manufacturers are long lost, but their products were so well built they have lasted.”

Judging by the three friends’ comments, the prammie community is certainly a very active one and enthusiasts regularly meet up. Every Christmas, Christine, Frances and Beth join with other friends to parade their vintage prams along the Pantiles in Tunbridge Wells, and raise money for Great Ormond Street Hospital. There are also various gatherings at vintage vehicle and steam shows and dedicated pram walks, but 2014 sees the first Pramtasia.

Vintage pram collecting is a hobby which is gaining in popularity. But, even though the three friends cherish things from yesteryear they stress the role that 21st-century technology has played in helping them develop and share their interest. The internet is an essential tool for putting them in touch with “Prammies throughout the world” especially in Australia, America and Canada. Beth’s magazine also spreads the word and has many readers overseas.

They explain that as a pastime it seems to span the generations, with younger people getting involved because of the appeal of anything vintage and nostalgic.

When they are out with their prams Frances, Beth and Christine say that there is always a wonderful reaction from passers-by. “Most of us cannot go very far with our prams, without being stopped and chatted to about how they had a pram like that for their babies,” says Beth.

Christine adds: “Some are amazed that these items are still in use and so lovingly cared for. We will always stand and listen to people reminiscing about their own long-gone prams.”

Frances notes: “It is interesting to see how many young people are interested, some of them will not see many of the prams in their lifetime.”

The three friends are all hoping that the sun will be shining in Chatham on 12th July making it perfect perambulator parading weather! However, rain won’t spoil the prammies’ fun, because

as Christine, Beth and Frances point out, there’s plenty of covered space at the Dockyard. There are also numerous attractions — including warships, a submarine, lifeboats and a history of Chatham’s shipbuilding industry — so it is the ideal destination for all the family. Dads, sons and granddads will have plenty to occupy them while mums, daughters, and grandmas can enjoy discovering the world of vintage prams. For fans of Call the Midwife, the Dockyard also offers a special tour — led by a midwife guide — showing the

locations used in the series.Whether you’re a serious collector or a curious bystander

Pramtasia sounds like it’s going to be a fantastic day and one that is guaranteed to conjure up a pram-full of happy memories for everyone. But, sshh, try not to get too excited — you mustn’t wake the babies!

ANGELINE WILCOX

Prams through the ages...

Discounted Pramtasia tickets can be purchased in advance. For details of prices, venue and directions please visit the website:www.pramtasia2014.com E-mail: [email protected] or telephone 01474 702512Facebook: pramtasia2014

Further Information


prams2.indd 33 22/04/2014 12:52

The great British summer was kind to everyone during 2013 with far more sunny days than wet and a complete contrast to the year before. Rain or shine people still

flock to our many fabulous coastal resorts. Why? Quite simply because they really do like to be beside the seaside. Among them is comedy legend Ken Dodd who was happy to talk about his and our love affair with the seaside.

“Going to the seaside is one of the greatest experiences of anyone’s lifetime,” he enthused. “Take me for instance. I am born and bred a Liverpudlian but I have fantastic memories of our first family holiday in Scarborough and that has remained one of my favourite places since I was knee-high to a camping tent peg.

“I have very happy memories of that first holiday at Cayton Bay just outside Scarborough when I was very young. Dad took us all on a camping weekend at the seaside. We couldn’t afford anything more than that but to me it was wonderful and a proper holiday. I remember going down to the beach with our shrimping net to try and catch breakfast. The shrimps and the crabs were not too impressed. They had been dealing with the North Sea so they were tough and when they caught sight of your shrimp net they just laughed at you. Have you ever been intimidated by a shrimp?

“We built a sandcastle as well. It was a really beautiful sandcastle with turrets at each corner where we had tipped the bucket upside down. We dug a moat around it and then a channel to the edge of the water. We didn’t have a flag so we stuck a crisp packet on a lolly stick and stood to attention to admire the whole thing. The next morning when we went down to look at it again it was gone and there was just some damp sand where it had been. So that taught me never to leave anything lying around!

“Those were happy days, journeying into another county

was a bit like going to Australia, and Yorkshire was a foreign land. My Dad was a coal merchant and we lived in a suburb of Liverpool. You may have heard of it — Knotty Ash. I still live

there of course. I wouldn’t live anywhere else, but I do love to go to seaside resorts and I still get excited when I get my first glimpse of the ocean.

“My favourite resort is still Blackpool, Britain’s most famous seaside resort and, for me, almost a second home. Northern folk know how to have a good time and that is one of the reasons why Blackpool has been the top British seaside resort for generations. It doesn’t just have beaches and the famous Tower, the Golden Mile, three great piers and those magical illuminations which extend its season

decade after decade, but it also has a galaxy of star entertainers every year.

“Blackpool was a sleepy seaside village for generations and then it suddenly became a major centre of tourism when a railway was built in the 1840s connecting it to the industrialised regions of Northern England. The railway made it much easier and cheaper for visitors to reach Blackpool. More people moved there to live but even more people started to visit and by the start of the 1880s Blackpool was a booming resort with a population of 14,000 and a promenade complete with piers, sideshows, fortune-tellers, pubs, trams, donkey rides, fish-and-chip shops and great theatres. Today those ingredients are still there but Blackpool is now visited by people from all over the world.

“I did my first summer season in 1955 — the Central Pier at Blackpool. You could say that I cut my teeth there. Sometimes you performed in the pier theatre while gale-force winds were howling outside and rattling everything around you. At matinees you didn’t know if you were going to do a second house or find yourself being blown to the Isle of Man!”


’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’WeWeWeWeWeWeWeWeWeWeWeWeWeWeWeWeWeWeWeWeWeWeWeWeWeWeWeWeWeWe’We’’’We’We’We’’’We’WeWeWeWeWeWeWeWeWe do like do like do like do like do like do like do like do like do like do like do like do like do like do like do like do like do like do like do like do like do like do like do like do like do like do like do like do like do like do like do like do like do like do like do like do like do like do like do like do like do like do like do like do like do like do like do like do like do like do like do like do like do like do like do like do like do like do like do like do like do like do like do like do like do like do like We do like WeWeWe do like We do like We do like WeWeWe do like WeWe do like WeWeWe do like We do like We do like WeWeWe do like WeWe do like WeWeWe do like We do like We do like WeWeWe do like WeWe do like WeWeWe do like We do like We do like WeWeWe do like We do like do like do like do like do like do like do like do like do like do like do like do like do like do like do like do like do like do like do like do like do like to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’to be beside the seaside’

says the King of Knotty Ash and Professor of Tickleology,Ken Dodd

The beach at Skegness, with holidaymakers enjoying the sunshine. MIKE COWEN

PHOENIX FM

Dodd.indd 36 24/04/2014 09:19

Ken Dodd has appeared regularly at Blackpool since the 1950s.

“What a place, the air is so bracing even the chips have muscles. I used to be taken to Blackpool when I was a little lad. It has always been a very British resort. If any foreigner came over from Germany or somewhere and landed there they would get a real culture shock. Can you imagine their first sight of a grown man with a knotted handkerchief on his head or a knobbly knees contest or a happy woman holidaymaker waving a stick of rock in the air and saying, ‘This one’s got stripes!’. You wouldn’t see that in Monte Carlo!”

Doddy has talked to many landladies past and present at Blackpool and other resorts. One was Edna Murray, a landlady in Blackpool for 30 years before she retired, who remembers what it was like in the early 1950s.

“You have never seen so many people. They came for their annual holidays and they came for weekends and sometimes they just came for the day but missed the train home. We used to have them knocking on the door late into the night asking if we had any room. Every guest house and every hotel used to be full. It was so packed that early in the morning if you took a walk along the beach you would see couples and families sleeping under the piers, anywhere they could spend the night. They were all determined to have a good time and even sleeping on the beach would not stop them doing that.”

The seaside has been a traditional holiday destination since the Victorians began flocking there. The fashion was soon followed by the working classes who did not see why only the affluent should have the sand, sea and air.

“People like to go a little crazy now and then,” said Ken Dodd. “It is probably because they are away from work for a well-earned rest. By 1955 all but a few per cent of workers enjoyed two weeks’ annual holiday with pay. They had never had such leisure and they meant to enjoy it to the full. They didn’t want to just collapse on some beach, they wanted to do things, have a party. Yes they didn’t mind rolling up their trousers or rolling down their stockings and having a paddle and they didn’t

mind brushing the sand from their shrimp paste sandwiches or scalding their hands holding the plastic mug from their flask of tea. But they wanted more than that, they wanted fun!

“Renting a bungalow in Clacton might cost them £3 for the week but that didn’t matter. They had been saving so that they could have a ride on an open-top bus along the promenade and then walk back. If there was a pub or two on the way, so much the better. The kids could sit on the step with a packet of Smith’s Crisps and a bottle of warm Tizer.

“The pier gave the thrill of being out on the water without the sea-sickening rocking of a boat. Fishing enthusiasts could spend hours untangling their lines from the protesting crabs, ladies could sit in a huge chair to have their weight guessed and if you had a penny or two to spare in the arcade you could try to get a little ball-bearing into a hole that would yield you the return of your penny or perhaps even two. You could spend another penny watching a model grave open and a horrifying creature pop out. Perhaps you wanted to have a chuckle. Your penny would buy you several minutes of laughter from a sailor or a policeman in a glass case. If your wife had gone to spend a penny elsewhere, the What the Butler Saw machine was good value for another penny, just so long as you did not get so engrossed that you didn’t notice her coming back!

“Then, as now, the pubs jostled alongside


�

or perhaps even two. You could spend another penny

creature pop out. Perhaps

37

�The Englishman on holiday. CLIFFORD ROBINSON

Blackpool’s famous Tower. PAUL THOMPSON

Dodd.indd 37 24/04/2014 09:19

During June and July 2014 Brazil will host the final stages of the 20th FIFA World Cup. A total of 32 teams will have progressed this far and they will play

out the 64 remaining matches to determine the overall winner. The world champions will be decided on 13th July when the final is played in Rio de Janeiro.

Brazil, as host nation, was guaranteed its place in the finals, the other 31 teams only reached that stage through the qualification process. The first qualifying match of this competition, between Montserrat and Belize, was played back on 15th June 2011. Since then 815 further matches have been played to determine the 32 finalists from the original 208 entrants.

Only eight teams have ever won the World Cup: Brazil (five times), Italy (four times), West Germany (three times), Argentina and Uruguay (twice each) and England, France and Spain (once each). England’s one and only triumph in this competition was when the final stages were played on home soil in the summer of 1966.

It was on 22nd August 1960 that FIFA confirmed England would host the final stages of the 1966 World Cup. Sixteen

teams would compete in the final stages. England, as hosts, and Brazil, as cup holders, were assured of their places in the finals. A

further 14 teams had to secure their places from the total of 70 nations participating in the qualifying stages.

On 6th January 1966, once the finalists had been established, the draw was made for the composition of the four groups in which the teams would initially play. The resultant groups were as follows:

Group One: England, Uruguay, Mexico and FranceGroup Two: West Germany, Argentina, Spain and

SwitzerlandGroup Three: Portugal, Hungary, Brazil and BulgariaGroup Four: U.S.S.R., North Korea, Italy and Chile

A total of 32 matches would be played in the final stages of the 1966 competition: six in each of the four group stages, where each team played the others in their group, and a further seven in the knock-out stages from the quarter-finals onwards — the one extra game was for the 3rd/4th place play off.

The eight stadiums selected to host these matches stretched the length of the land. The chosen venues were Wembley Stadium and White City, both in London; Hillsborough, Sheffield; Villa Park, Birmingham; Goodison Park, Liverpool;


Remembering 1966 and ournational football team’s finest hour

The England team that beat West Germany: Back row, left to right: Harold Sheperdson (trainer), Nobby Stiles, Roger Hunt, Gordon Banks, Jackie Charlton, George Cohen, Ray Wilson and Alf Ramsey (manager). Front row, left to right: Martin Peters, Geoff Hurst, Bobby Moore, Alan Ball and Bobby Charlton.

world cup.indd 54 24/04/2014 10:14

Old Trafford, Manchester; Ayresome Park, Middlesbrough and Roker Park, Sunderland.

By early 1966 the Jules Rimet trophy, for which the teams were competing, was in the care of the FA. It spent most of its time at the Lancaster Gate home of the FA but occasionally it

was loaned out for publicity purposes. In March 1966, amidst stringent security, it was on display at Central Hall, Westminster, London, during the course of a major stamp exhibition. Despite the best efforts of all concerned the trophy was

stolen!News of its disappearance spread around the

globe and a major police investigation ensued. The police failed to locate the trophy but, a week after it was taken, a dog named Pickles, whilst being walked by his owner, found it under a hedge in south-east London.

Some voices in Brazil expressed dismay that this theft had been allowed to happen but it is perhaps

ironic that in 1983, whilst in Rio de Janeiro, the same trophy was once again stolen and was never seen again. It is largely suspected to have been melted down.

After a wait of nearly six years the 1966 World Cup finals finally got under way in earnest on 11th July. Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II formally declared the opening of the competition, beneath the sun-bathed twin towers of the old Wembley Stadium, immediately prior to the very first match, England versus Uruguay.

The match itself, before a surprisingly low attendance of 75,000, was an uninspiring spectacle and resulted in a goal-less draw. It was hoped that this was not to be a precursor of the games to follow — it wasn’t. Things would get better...much better.

England progressed steadily, if unspectacularly, through the group stage and finished top of the group. They recorded 2-0 victories over both Mexico and France on the way. Perhaps,

from an England fan’s perspective, the highlight of the group stage matches would be Bobby Charlton’s stunning strike to score England’s first goal of the competition against a resolute Mexican team. Two teams from each group progressed to the next round, the quarter-final stage. Uruguay, having finished as runners-up in Group One, qualified with England.

Group Two was won by West Germany with Argentina securing second place; each team had won twice as well as drawing with one another.

Group Three was to provide the first real shock of the tournament when Brazil, the cup holders and strong contenders to retain the trophy, were eliminated. Having lost 3-1 to both Hungary and Portugal they could only achieve third place in the group. Portugal finished top with Hungary claiming second place.

Group Four was to provide an even greater shock than Group Three. It was won by the U.S.S.R. but the runners-up were the completely unknown North Korean team. In what was undoubtedly the surprise result of the tournament North Korea beat the strongly fancied Italian team 1-0. Pak Doo Ik’s 41st-minute strike relegated the Italians to third place and sentthe majority of the 17,829 fans at Ayresome Park home in disbelief. �


‘England progressed steadily, ifunspectacularly, through the group stage’

A World Cup poster and one of the stars of the tournament, Eusebio.

world cup.indd 55 24/04/2014 10:15

The Wey and Godalming Navigation in Surrey is two stretches of waterway combining river and cut running from Weybridge to Guildford and then on

to Godalming. It is a delightful channel, which despite its proximity to London, has a quiet, almost pastoral charm.

The Wey, to shorten its name for convenience, is popular with walkers and boaters alike, seemingly anointing its visitors with a typically reserved English friendliness. . . a good morning here, a good day there and maybe even a brief chat.

The navigation from Guildford to the River Thames at Weybridge was made navigable in 1653. It is a distance of more than 15 miles, of which more than a third is natural river. The extension — less than five miles — to Godalming was opened 111 years later. The entire navigation has been owned by the National Trust since 1968.

Although the navigation has a good towpath and is easy going, it presents more of a challenge to boaters who are required to negotiate 14 locks, plus two that only close during floods.

Without further ado let’s take a walk along the towpath

from Weybridge to Godalming and give you an idea of the environment and a flavour of its rich and varied heritage. It’s worth noting, just to start us off in the right frame of mind, that the author E.M. Forster lived in Weybridge while writing A Passage to India.

Access to the Wey is from Thames Street via Church Walk alongside the Old Crown pub or from nearby Jessamy Road. I discovered this beautiful waterway more than 30 years ago and still remember the first time I saw the keeper’s cottage at Thames Lock. Tucked away from view and surrounded by trees, it seemed almost detached from the 20th century. Not surprising, because although the cottage was built in 1975 it was designed to look like the original 18th-century building. Some adjacent residential development has taken place since and, although contemporary, it is tasteful and does not detract from the cottage.

The walk from Thames Lock to Coxes Lock is roughly a mile and a half and is pleasant rather than

stunning. There are some rather nice detached properties set back from the opposite bank that would probably set you back a couple of million or more should you wish to make enquiries. You will see in the distance a building that dominates the skyline. It overlooks Coxes Lock and the adjacent wildlife sanctuary. It is a block of flats, but one converted sympathetically from an imposing 19th-century mill building.

We have yet to reach what I consider to be some of the best sections of the navigation. The walk to Murray’s Bridge — almost three miles — is noteworthy for the junction with the Basingstoke Canal, itself a waterway gem, and the ghastly M25 flyover (the least said about that, the better).

Nearby is Brooklands Museum, which sits on a site acknowledged as the birthplace of British motorsport and aviation. Opened in 1991, it has many fascinating exhibits and holds many events highlighting this country’s achievements and many of the famous names responsible for them during the 20th century.


WALKING THE WEY

Top: Cruising towards Farncombe.Above (right): A narrowboat enters Thames Lock at Weybridge.Above: Coxes Lock, with a converted mill building.Left: Newark Lock, one of the most secluded spots on the waterway.

Wey.indd 60 22/04/2014 14:44

The M25 runs alongside the Wey for about a mile and it is at Murray’s Bridge that the motorway heads east on its way south of the metropolis and leaves the navigation to get on with making its own quiet way to more rural places. There are numerous walks nearby and the popular Anchor pub at Pyrford Lock offers a welcome first stop if you’ve walked the five miles from Weybridge.

There is so much of interest in the area and some people might like to make a detour to visit the Royal Horticultural Society’s garden at Wisley. There is also the church in Wisley Lane, not far from Pyrford Lock. It is one of two exquisite 12th-century churches in the Parish of Wisley with Pyrford, the second is on the B367 just north of Newark Lock.

Back to the towpath and a little farther on we pass Pyrford Green on the right, between Pigeon House footbridge and Walsham Lock. It is a private estate, but on its bank is part of a charming summer house, albeit refurbished a few years ago, in which the poet and Member of Parliament John Donne lived in the early 17th century.

The area around Walsham Lock was featured in the 1981 Second World War spy thriller Eye of the Needle pretending to be somewhere in Norfolk. The reality of the threats posed by war more than 70 years ago is, however, present in the number of pillboxes still visible along the banks of the Wey.

We’ve walked six miles now and the next stretch, which will take us to Trigg’s Lock and about halfway along the navigation, is among the most attractive. On the way is Newark Lock, hidden beneath a mass of trees in a world of its own. A few hundred yards to the right are the unmissable ruins of a 12th-century Augustinian priory, set on private land on the bank of Abbey Stream. It is worth idling away a few minutes at Newark Lock because it is easy to imagine how it was many centuries ago. It is an enchanting spot and, for me, one of those “special places”.

From the B367 bridge it is possible to see Papercourt Lock across the meadow. It is a pleasant stroll and one on which you might be accompanied by cows. There is a footpath from the lock to the Seven Stars pub, Ripley. The village was once a popular coaching stop on the London to Portsmouth road.

At this point it is worth mentioning the variety of wildlife. I’m no expert, but I was told by a local historian

that botanists took particular interest in the Wey because of the rarity of some species found in certain parts. However, I know a little more about birds and have seen all three species of British woodpecker, a cuckoo and many smaller birds between Ripley and Guildford, to say nothing of foxes, a badger and deer. We arrive at Trigg’s Lock and its cottage,

seemingly isolated in a splendid location.

The hustle and bustle of 21st-century life is never far away from the navigation, but there are many stretches where you really can get away from it all, at least temporarily. All that changes, however, on the approach to Guildford. The towpath gets close to the A3

and the traffic noise is intrusive, but the walk itself is enjoyable and there are views of the 20th-century cathedral. Guildford is a fascinating and historic city and the navigation, whether you are on foot or aboard a boat, is probably the most appealing way of approaching it. Unfortunately, if you’re on foot life gets a little challenging because there are two main roads to cross and both are of the “quick or dead” variety — the A320 and the A25.

But risking all is worth it because the impressive Dapdune railway viaduct hoves into view and beyond it on the opposite bank is a cluster of attractive buildings which makes up Dapdune Wharf,

headquarters of the Wey and Godalming Navigation. The visitor centre has much of interest, including telling the full story of the navigations and the people who lived and worked on them. It is all brought to life in words, recordings and many old photographs. There is much more besides and visitors are invited aboard the Reliance,


F

Pigeon House Bridge and (left) “Tiberius” at Walsham Gates.

The remains of Newark Priory.

Dapdune Wharf and (right) the aptly named “Tranquil Rose” heads towards Unstead Bridge between Guildford and Godalming.

Wey.indd 61 22/04/2014 14:45

For all wholove our green

and pleasant land

SUMMER 2014Quarterly

£4.75

TH

IS E

NG

LAN

DQ

uarterly

SU

MM

ER

2014V

olu

me Fo

rty Seven

Nu

mb

er Tw

o

Cliffs and caves at Thornwick Bay, Yorkshire. DERYCK LISTER HALLAM

I do not see my church in rules and regulation,But I see my church in the glory of creation.I see my church in God’s devotion,In the towering mountains and in the restless ocean.Church does not have to be made of stone and clay,I see my church in a summer garden on a beautiful day,And when I look up to the Milky Way.I find my church by a quiet stream,In that quiet place where I can rest and dream.I find my church in the valleys and the hillsAnd when I see the golden daffodils.Yes, I find my church in all creation,God’s power beyond imagination.

ARTHUR S. MAGEE

My Church

te cov summer 14 without.indd All Pages 24/04/2014 09:39

Date post:	22-Mar-2016
Category:	Documents
Upload:	d-c-thomson-co-ltd
View:	220 times
Download:	3 times

This England Summer 2014

Documents