Lost and Found

Albert’s letter of Wednesday 6th May 1942 relates the second half of his day out to Inkpen Beacon; another mammoth excursion by bicycle. He tells us of a couple of mishaps, one of which was the loss of his map in the area of Linkenholt. This little village is wholly owned by the Linkenholt estate (as it was in Albert’s time) and therefore little has changed since those times. You can’t buy one of the pretty houses, they are all rented out by the current owner, who bought the estate for £25 million in 2009.

Well, back in 1942 it was ‘E.Sharpe’ who kindly found my Uncle’s treasured map and returned it to him. His brief but charming letter is reproduced below. I have spent some time today trying to find something more about this gentleman, but without success. I was able to find a record for his dwelling in the 1939 Census, but all the names, except that of the cook, have been redacted. If you are interested to know why, take a look here (it’s too complicated to explain!).

Dear All, I think I will continue this letter where I left off the last one – at Inkpen Beacon (though of course I’m not there now) and go on recounting what happened in the ride.

I went down a pretty steep hill into Combe, or Coombe as I believe it is correctly called. (The map says Combe, but W.H.Hudson, the Parish notices & memorials in the church all spell it with the double ‘o’). The village is very tiny and consists of a church, a farm and a very few cottages, without, as far as I could see, even a shop. I went into the church and found that the parish is Coombe & Foccombe (Coombe in Berks., Foccombe in Hants). There was soon to be service and just before I left, the rector of the joint parish came in, an old, frail man. I had a few words with him – he knew Hudson’s book – and then proceeded down the road, past what must be a very isolated searchlight post, to a crossroads, from which the road climbs and turns to Linkenholt, in Hampshire: the border is about where the searchlight post was (or perhaps it should be vice versa).

At Linkenholt I stopped and went to the church door, but as there was a service in progress I did not go in. From there I went to Vernham’s Street, where I posted your letter, and about 100 yards on I stopped for a drink at a wayside tap. Looking round on the carrier, I saw that the map was not in its place. I had tied the map, the writing paper and my gas mask on but somehow the map must have dropped off. I was very worried and went all the way back to the crossroads, where I had last looked at it, without finding it. Of course there were plenty of people about when I went along the first time (and lost it) but on the other two journeys, not a soul. However, I thought whoever had picked it up must be a local, and would only need a little prompting to return it – perhaps not even that. Just to make as sure as possible I penned a note which I put on a Home Guard hut, the front of which was used as a notice board:-

Yesterday, by the second post, your letter & my map arrived, the enclosed letter with the map. I have replied to it this morning.

From Vernham’s Street to Vernham’s Dean by memory, and I found it a very nice little village, with a village pond and green, and neat little thatched cottages. I asked the way of a postman – Burbage I said, as it was the first place I could think of that I was going through. I followed the main road to Foxbury (just in Wilts) Oxenwood where I asked the way to Great Bedwyn, and again where the road crosses the A338.

I found Great Bedwyn alright, and went into the church there which is pretty large and very good. I followed the road by the railway and canal, as I could see from the map in “Highways and Byways” that they crossed the road near Burbage. Of course that map is hopelessly inadequate for cycling, as there are only a very few roads marked. However, I got along quite nicely, through Crofton, just past which I decided to stop and eat the remainder of the date cake. Just as I ran down off the road to the canal side my front tyre burst, much to my annoyance, so after eating the cake I had to mend that, which however did not take me long. I must think about getting a new tyre if that one is any more trouble.

My little road became quite rough and led away from the railway and by Wolf Hall into Burbage. From there I simply had to follow the main road (which was very quiet) through the western edge of Savernake Forest to Marlborough. In Marlborough I got something to eat and drink.

In a pub there (where I had some very nice cider) I met an old countryman who was actually a native of Charminster, though now living near Marlborough. He had also worked for some time as cowman for Alfred Brown’s of Southampton for a number of years, until 1920 I believe. He knew the town well and we had quite an interesting talk. I noticed that he called Great Bedwyn ‘Big’ Bedwyn. I recognised his Dorset accent as soon as he spoke to me, saying that is had been ‘waarm’ that day. It certainly had been a lovely day, and despite the two little mishaps I enjoyed it very much.

Today I fell for some work, though not of a very exacting nature. I was a “marker” for the cross country course, and actually all I had to do was sit out on one of the training gallops near Beckhampton. I wrote some of this letter whilst I was there. This evening I shall quite likely go for a little ride, perhaps through Compton Bassett

I hope then to see you this Sunday, May 10, at Salisbury in the Cathedral Close some time during the morning. I should advise you to bring some dinner, as the town is very crowded on Sundays. It certainly looks as though the weather is going to treat us kindly; I certainly hope so.

I cannot remember anything else to answer in your letters, so I suppose I shall have to waste the rest of the page. One more thing – it would be quite nice to have a cake.

All the usual love, from Albert.

It’s nice to think of Albert looking forward to seeing his mum and dad in Salisbury (and expecting cake too). The arrangement to meet ‘some time in the morning’ speaks of a different age, when all parties were reliant on slow and sometimes unpredictable public transport. Unfortunately we won’t get to hear anything about their excursion, as the next letter I have from Albert is dated 22 May. He has left Wiltshire and all its beauty behind, stationed in London, “address unknown.”