Church Parade

“We have got a cat here, a quite small one, ginger in colour. It is about the size of our Ginger”

Albert took this photo of ‘Ginger begging’ in 1937.

Albert writes his next letter on 30th November 1941, fresh from parading in front of a ‘herd of officers’, for no good reason that he could see. His mind is on Christmas presents and his afternoon out with a family friend. It’s just a little letter, but I love it for insights that it gives us, on everyday wartime life, and those family members that I never got a chance to meet. It pleases me to picture Albert sitting by the fire, his mind on the cosy details of home. I am sure that one of the ‘girls’ was in the background, making him a cup of cocoa to share with her, after he had finished writing.

Dear All, I am starting this in the morning after having been to church. After church we marched by a herd of officers,  moving at very nearly funeral pace,  while they stood in a row and saluted. I didn’t see much point in the show but I suppose it keeps someone happy.

Mr Gibson is coming this afternoon about 2, for a couple of hours, it is very good of him to come and visit me like this with petrol so scarce. I must remember to get him cigarettes for Christmas. I must also take uncle Vic some tobacco, if I manage to get there next week. I have been sending off letters and cards by the score, first saying that I was going to Castleton and then that I was not. I have already used that 2/6 book of stamps that you sent last week and shall have to buy or borrow an envelope for this letter.  I was out looking at shops yesterday afternoon and made one or two purchases. Regarding presents have you any ideas about something for Christine and Ron? I don’t think that there are any others I have forgotten. I could get an aeroplane construction kit for Ron. Would you like a calendar for 1942? I don’t suppose there will be many free ones this year and there are one or two in Boots which have taken my eye.

I was pleased to see the letter & statement from S.M.& B.P. The “ex gratis” payment made “4.4.0” was the fortnight’s advance pay which I got before leaving. The “War Allowance” is the 15% bonus. The “Provident Fund” is the superannuation affair. So if you work it out carefully you will see that next time the cheque should be for about £4. Continue to put it in the box taking out Jean’s money each week and I can put in the P.O. whatever is left when I come home. 

Saturday I got a letter from Jean which I shall enclose if I remember to do so. I should write to Peter in the week, though I have no idea of what I shall write about. Just before I forget it, I must tell you that I have my savings book and I believe the RAF money goes in every three months. I don’t think I know David Trim, but I used to know the Bickers boys. I believe Ken is the boy I know best. As for Phil,  I shouldn’t think he would be at all near the front.  You remember that they were well in the vanguard of the retreat from France, so I should think he will be well in the rearguard of the advance in Libya, I very much hope so.

Some of the fellows here have just been complaining that they do not like Sunday morning because there is nothing to do! I am only too pleased to have nothing to do, although I always have a letter on hand to start or finish.

Sunday Evening: I had quite a nice afternoon with Mr and Mrs Gibson.  He arrived at about 1.30 and we went to Fleetwood for the afternoon. He has a nice little car, a Morris 8, and it was very nice to have the afternoon with them. He had to leave early of course, to beat the blackout, and went at 4. I went out some way with him and walked back reaching the billet at 5. It was quite a fine afternoon, though there was a sharp NE wind blowing, which made it chilly to stand about. 

Fancy having some primroses out! I believe they were late last year too. I saw some violets for sale in one of the shops, and wondered if they have any out at Branstone. Auntie Daisy sent the other pair of socks during the week, and in her letter said that she had picked some raspberries which were quite nice. I wonder if you have had any other bottled fruit yet. (I am wearing the socks which are alright).

I had some unpleasant news today, a good many of the air-crew have been moved from this part of Blackpool, to where we started off and possibly we may go too. I sincerely hope not, and if I can I think I should lodge a complaint – though I don’t suppose it would do much good. We have got a cat here, a quite small one, ginger in colour. It is about the size of our Ginger, but of course the tail is different,  and it has more white in it. Yesterday he caught a mouse and was playing with it on the kitchen floor.  At our first billet there were scores of mice. I saw one running about in one of the cupboards in the scullery, where they sometimes kept with provisions, and that didn’t please me very much you can guess! I don’t think there is enough news for another sheet, so goodbye and love from Albert.

Ron was the son of my grandparents’ neighbours. He spent much of his childhood with my Mum and her brothers, joining them on holidays, and trips to the Island. We know him as ‘Uncle Ron’, always cheerful, always smiling. He made a career from his love of aeroplanes, working in the Concorde factory in Bristol. He was a dear friend to my Mother, almost like another brother to her.

Patrick Herbert Redvers Mabey

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There is little I can tell you of Patrick’s life. All I have is his name, and two photographs. My mother labelled this photograph and placed it in the album, honouring a relative long lost. She never met her Uncle Patrick but this likeness would have been on display in her Grandparent’s house.  She would have picked it up and asked those questions, as I would years later about my own mysterious Uncle (her brother Albert)  – “When did he die?”, “What happened?” And after a heavy silence which a impulsive child cannot bear “Are you sad?”

That this beautiful boy died so young must have been a torment to my Great-Grandparents. To lose any child is an unnatural horror, one I pray I never have to bear, but my Grandparents outlived three of their children. In March 1918 they lost Lloyd and then on 19 February 1920 Patrick died, also from gunshot. He was 17. My Mother told me that Patrick was working as a gamekeeper and on passing through a hedge with a loaded shotgun he tripped and the gun went off.

I have my Grandfather’s diary of 1920. I also have diaries from 1915 and 1916, but no others. My Grandparents married in 1920, so I imagine that’s why he kept it, or rather why my Grandmother kept it after he died. Its preservation gives us a testimony to Patrick, although brief. Sadly it tells us nothing of his life, only the manner of his passing.

19th February 1920 Thursday:

Fine Day. Nice Letter from May. Wire from home, serious accident to Pat. School in afternoon, left at 3 home at 6. Pat dead. Accidentally shot. 1-2pm not found til 8pm.

20th February 1920 Friday:

Very Sad day. Went to Newchurch in morning. Elsie returned to Dorchester. Went to Ryde to see Jim and came back home with him. [The rest of this entry, written in pencil, is illegible].

21st February 1920, Saturday:

Up early. Cold day. Pat home. Busy. Sandown. 14 wreaths. Sad day altogether. Lovely funeral, many followers. Tea, talk, tears. Meccano with Dick, made a fine model. Very, very sad weekend.

Exactly 98 years later I record the passing of my Great Uncle Patrick, through no design of my own – some other force perhaps is at work here. This is my own little act of honouring a relative, reminding me again that for some this life is short and they leave us all too soon.

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Great-Grandfather

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Now, in this New Year I introduce you to my Great-Grandfather, and to the oldest letter in the collection. John Mabey was born in 1859 and lived in Knighton with his grandparents. For most of his life he was a market gardener. This photograph shows him in August 1936 amongst his fruit trees. My Mother is the dear little soul beside him.

These days there are no other circumstances in which I might use “My Mother is.” She has gone and so one says “my Mother was,” “She did,”  etc. No present or future actions are possible.  Yet in a photograph, where a sliver of time is captured and stilled, she still exists. There she is smiling in the hot sunshine, how happy they look.

Great-Grandfather was a jovial man, by my Mother’s account, and she was very fond of him. She told me that he did not have the brains for business, my Great-Grandmother had those. Jane Mabey ran a shop out of Headley House selling all manner of household and farm goods. It did well until Apse Heath expanded.  Thereafter trade and income dwindled as the family grew ever larger. I believe it was the promise of gold that prompted my Great-Grandfather to enlist, aged 40, for the second Boer War. What his wife thought of him travelling half way across the world with no guarantee of return we shall never know. It seems that Vera Chrystabel was born in her father’s absence. She was the youngest of 7 children that Jane Mabey was left to manage alone, and there was the shop to look after too.

My Great-Grandfather writes from Keat’s Drift in South Africa. He addresses his son as though he is head of the household, done tongue-in-cheek we hope, for he was only 10 years old in 1900. My Grandfather, Headley John, had four older sisters  – Edith, Elsie, Frad and Daisy.

10-05-1900

My Dear John – I received your letter with Daisy’s – and I was very glad to hear from you – also to hear that the Little Mother is better. I hope that you are a good boy and that you help her all you can . How do you get on at school, do you like it? Your Good Friday was very different to mine. I was on a very long march and it was a very hot day and dusty. I shall remember that for a very long time. I was glad to hear that Vera Chrystabel was such a nice little girl – also that Jim was a fine boy. I suppose he will soon go to school. I hear he is getting pretty unruly. I think his mother had better pack him off out to me in a box and I will make a Dutchman out of him – and Mr Levy off too. Please remember me to to Aunt Frances and Uncle John Wheeler also to Mr Sprack and tell him he could make hay out here for it shines both sides of the hedges every day, also to Miss Salter and tell her I have forgotten the taste of “Sodie”. Goodbye John be a good boy and help Little Mother and take care of her. From your old Dad – in South Africa x x x x

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I’m glad to say that John Mabey returned to The Island to drink refreshing “Sodie” in his garden. He survived the war unscathed, but did not find enough gold to make him rich. He brought some back, a little nugget mounted on a tie-pin. We sold it after Mum died. Great-Grandfather’s war medals were stolen in 1960 when Frad and Ursie left the house. Vera Chrystabel died in 1901, aged 18 months. I do not know if Great-Grandfather ever saw her, I hope he did. They called her Molly in the family, long after she was gone – my uncle recalls this. Why she was known as Molly is a mystery. There were no photographs of her. Jane Mabey had only her memories, no picture to hold and say  “Look Molly is..”

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