Tag: Countryside

Fire Watching & Guard Duty

Reading Albert’s letter, 82 years after it was written, I reflect on all that has physically changed in this land since then. The farm buildings he describes as “dilapidated”, are now transformed into a ‘shoot’ venue for the rich and privileged. The countryside he walked through to the east of Torquay is countryside no more, smothered by post-war development. And whilst I have not investigated changes to Corhampton and the Meon Valley, I have no doubt that housing estates and fast roads abound in those places where my grandparents cycled on summer days.

The term ‘firewatching’ had a different conotation to my grandparents and their son, than our image of cosy camp-side evenings. Air Raid Wardens and volunteers kept a nightly watch for fires instigated by incendary bombs or the aftermath of high explosives. Whilst Southampton’s Blitz had passed, enemy bombings still occurred in 1942. In the course of researching this letter I discovered that my old secondary school was a casualty of bombing shortly after Albert wrote his letter.

Sunday June 14, St James’s Hotel RAF Torquay, South Devon

Dear All, Today has not been a very good one for me, as I have been a guard and not able to go out far.  This guard business seems to be quite a great feature of the Torquay RAF and I can’t say that I think much of it.

 I was glad to receive your letter on Friday and interested to read of the fire watching. I am afraid that my midweek letter was a trifle late in writing, but you have no doubt received it and the parcel by now.  I have not yet seen about coupons but two of us are going to see what can be done. The clothes shops in Torquay seem to be well-stocked.  I was interested to read of your cycle trips especially the one to Corhampton and the Meon Valley, and back along the Upham road by St Clair’s Farm and Belmore.  It is a very pleasant road especially where it comes to Stephen’s Castle Down, and it is actually rather surprising that we have not been long it more often.  I believe that we once went along a short part of it, or crossed it, when we came with Ron from Beacon Hill  – the time I nearly ran over a rabbit. That road comes into the Upham one by St Clair’s Farm, which is a very dilapidated looking set of buildings.

 We have had some rain this afternoon, following a really perfect morning. At the moment (7.0) the sky is overcast and I should not be surprised to see some more rain, though what we had was of a thundery nature. The sky and sea were a beautiful blue in the morning and the view from my bedroom window extremely good.

 I have taken to washing again. 

We are issued, for the time we are here, with a white shirt affair – one of those short sort of woolly ones, and as we have only one, it has to be washed in the weekend.  It is our normal daytime dress, and a lot cooler marching about in than the blue shirt, collar and tie. For some obscure reason they must not be worn in the streets after working hours, but as compensation we are allowed (except on Sundays) to discard the tunic. So this afternoon I washed my shirt and it is now hanging on a coat hanger, in the window, which has been with me since Yatesbury. Incidentally, I still have my bicycle pump quite safe and sound.

 I have managed to hear a lot of radio music lately. There is a room downstairs called the “recreation room” (goodness knows why).  It must originally have been the lounge of the hotel and is now used for lectures during the day and as a dormitory for the guards and fire watchers by night. One can often have the wireless to some thing quite good. I heard the Enigma Variations during the week, and today listened to the Sunday Afternoon Concert. Of course I do not always want to stop in, as there are plenty of nice parks and greens where one can go in the evening to write letters or read. There are some very nice gardens by the road between the harbour and the station, and at the station end are parks and bowling greens and so forth. Round the coast towards Babbacombe there is a green on top of the cliffs overlooking the sea and with a good view in three directions. It is quite near here and a pleasant resort for an evening’s relaxation. One can also hire rowing and sailing boats and that is something I might try my hand at one day. I should rather like to learn to manipulate a sailing boat – perhaps rowing would involve too much effort to be wholly enjoyable.

 Another good walk I found was out towards the most easterly point of Torquay, Hope’s Nose, from which one should secure a very fine view on a clear day with visability as far as Portland, perhaps even the Island.  I did not get as far as Hope’s Nose, though I mean to do so one day, but I got to one of the highest bits of the town and had quite a good look around, though the view was a bit restricted due to trees, houses and other hills.  The eastern parts are not at all the town-like, and there are fields, woods and copses there,  just as if it were miles from any town. I had a very nice walk and went through what are called Lincomb Gardens, though they are really woods on a very steep hillside with paths zig-zagging up and down, somewhat after the fashion of those woods we went through at Fowey.  As I came down a path between some young trees I passed blackbird setting up a great din. Stopping to see what the noise was about I found that the cause of the disturbance was a tawny owl in the darker parts of the tree. The blackbird was keeping a good distance, and the noise appeared to leave the owl quite unmoved.

By the way – remember me to Mrs Churchill, and to anyone else too, love from Albert.

P.S. Plenty of buddlea globosa out now – how’s ours.

Oh yes, a lot has changed in the world out there. But I read this letter in much the same way as my grandmother, my grandfather, read this letter. All of us glad to hear from Albert. No matter that the content is everyday, lacking drama or significant news. We recognise the commonplace that links us.

The pleasures of an evening walk, the sight of a blackbird and an unfuffled owl in a tree – these are experiences that can still bring joy. The sweep and swell of The Enigma Variations can still move us. Waves unceasingly lap the shore and the sea still sparkles. We still share the same sky.

Another Country

Where Albert’s heart was..

Albert’s Photograph of Sutton Poyntz, Dorset, August 1940

I have mentioned before that my uncle was a keen photographer. And being a photographer in the 1930s and 1940s meant developing one’s own photographs, with all the expense and labour which that entails. The photograph above is, I think, of such a high quality that it deserves to be the first that I share with you. Albert must have been rather proud of it too, for he included it in his 1940 album. You can see below how he chose to mount it, with a precise hand-drawn frame and caption. I’m sorry that I could not get an entirely straight shot of this page, because the album is a little warped, in spite of my Mother’s care in keeping it. Albert’s choice of title “The Quiet Stream” hints at his romantic spirit, of one in love with the English Countryside. I wonder if he ever looked at his work and dreamt of a future where his photographs graced the pages of a guide book or ‘Country Life’.

I think Albert must have spent hours making this page in his album.

I also love the photograph below. This really is of ‘another country’; a bygone era, unknown to all but a few people now. It might be of farmland on the high hills around Winchester, if not there then I am sure that it will be somewhere in Hampshire or Dorset. These counties were his favoured lands. I have two versions of this photograph, one is a test print on a postcard and this is the final print, which he mounted in another album, preceding the 1940 one. Certainly the photos in the album are not quite so lovingly mounted, which is why I didn’t include the frame! I think it is beautiful.

Taken probably in 1938 or 1939, possibly near Winchester.

On the back of the test print are some notes made in pencil. Initially I thought Albert had hurriedly set down his thoughts, for the letters slope uncharacteristically elongated and almost illegible across the card. But as I slowly deciphered the words, I realised they were by another’s hand. I had not given any thought to how or where Albert developed his photographs. Given the costs and space required, he most likely shared resources, maybe at a club. The critique below must have been written by a friend or a club member, someone who had some expertise to pass on to my uncle, but I don’t know who. Maybe my Uncle Peter will be able to recall?

‘Apparently sun wasn’t shining – so don’t expect highlights on the horses. Besides my horses were classics – these aren’t. Composition might have been improved by having sky behind house instead of a horse. I’m always doing the same thing. Plus sunshine, this might have been a prizewinner.’

Oh but I think it absolutely is a prizewinner, Uncle Albert!