A day at the seaside in the 1940s

The first week I met my husband Don at the Farm Camp six of us decided at the weekend to go in Don's car to Littlehampton.  We went first to the funfair - Don and me, Ken and Irene (one of the cooks) and my friend Marion and Don's friend Arthur.  Arthur was on the small side whereas Marion was what is known as "a fine figure of a girl". We all went on the Caterpillar Ride.  This consisted of a circle of very small cars each holding two people.  Arthur and Marion shared a car.  During the very fast ride the cars moved up and down and tilted from side to side tipping the riders against one another and a green roof came down over the cars.  We all got off rather breathlessly, and Ken said "shall we have another go".  "No thanks," said Arthur forcefully. "Let's try something else."

During the War King Haakon of Norway took refuge in Britain.  He was invited to speak to his people at Bush House on the World Service radio.  A programme was drawn up with notes to the sound engineer to start the programme with a fanfare.  Imagine everyone's surprise (including the King's) to hear music and a raucous voice calling "Roll up, roll up, sixpence to see the fat lady".  The sound engineer said "I thought it said 'FUNFAIR'".

Unpublished letters

I am greatly enjoying my latest audio book.  It was published in 2012 and is a collection of letters from readers of the Daily Telegraph which were not published in the newspaper.  They are either witty, erudite or thought-provoking - in some cases all three.

I think there have been two earlier books.  Imagine one's chagrin if, not being published in the newspaper, one's letter was not considered worthy of being put in the book of unpublished letters and had been relegated to the slush pile!

Family news

I have been motivated to recommence writing my blog after an encounter with a lady at my nephew John's funeral - a great loss to us, his family and his enormously wide circle of friends.  John made friends wherever he went and will be greatly missed.  He faced his impending fate with humour and great courage as one would expect of him.

Karen and John had a long and happy marriage and were particularly close to his older brother Ian and Ian's wife Lyn.  I have never known two brothers with such a close friendship.

One of John and Karen's close friends asked me "Are you Auntie Jessie?"  She said John had recommended that she should read my blog and asked when I would start again, so I feel obliged to do so (with Amanda's help).

Apart from the dreadful sadness that John's passing has left in our family, there have been two other momentous events recently.  My grandson Harry, and Sarah have a son, Beau, born in July, and my eldest grandson, Tom, and Lan have a son, Luc, born a fortnight ago.  I already have one great grandson - aged one year - born to Holly and J.  So now I have three great grandsons!

Saying Grace

Thinking about the sumptuous lunch Amanda had cooked on Sunday for my birthday I realised it was a lomn time since anyone had said grace.  I suppose I left it to Don who liked to say grace before a festive meal  I feel one ought to thank someone.  Even if one does not have a deity to thank one should perhaps be glad of one's good fortune inliving in a country where food is plentiful.  When I was small my mother's mantra was "Eat it all up.  There is somme poor little boy in India who hasn't got any dinner and has to go hungry"  Uf it was liver which I hated I would think - well he is welcome to mine.

My mother taught manners as well as grace.  I had to say "Thank you God for my good dinner.  Please Mummy may I get down?"  I taught my small daughter to say and one day after watching me cook the meal  she said, quite logically, "Thank you Mummy foe my good dinner/ Please God may I get down?"

We used to sing a grace at Girl Guides called  Johnny Appleseed.
The Bishop's wife said "I think we will say thanks after the meal.  I'm not sure how the pudding will turn out"
Three potatoes between the four of us
Thank the Lord there aren't any more of us.

A historic week

This week I have been steeped in the story of Richard III.

Since reading Josephine Tey's book A Daughter of Time many years ago, I have always been convinced that Richard III was not the black-hearted villain painted by Shakespeare. Not that one can altogether blame Shakespeare. After all he was writing in Tudor times, when the Tudors were securely on the throne, and it would not have been prudent to show a Tudor enemy as a hero.

I have been following the story of the discovery of the skeleton for some time, as Amanda was involved with the launch of the new King Richard III Visitor Centre in Leicester.  The tussle between Leicester and York in the High Court was exciting.

On Sunday, the cortege, the simple coffin (made by the direct descendant of Richard III), the black horses and the outriders dressed as mounted medieval knights in armour processing through the streets of Leicester was a sight to behold.  The service which followed the handing over of the remains from Leicester University to the Cathedral clergy was long and impressive.  The sermon by Roman Catholic Cardinal Nicholls was well said, as at the time of Richard's death all England was Roman Catholic.

Yesterday I watched the ceremony of reinterment at Leicester Cathedral. It was a very moving service. The Bishop of Leicester and the Archbishop of Canterbury officiated, and a poem written for the occasion by the Poet Laureate was beautifully read by Benedict Cumberbatch. There were interviews with all the people who had been instrumental in bringing about this momentous event.

Over 20,000 people had queued up to see the coffin in the Cathedral during the week, and once again crowds of people had lined the streets to watch yesterday morning's proceedings. We really do ceremonies well in Britain.

There have always been power struggles over the Monarchy. Even in my lifetime, there was the abdication of Edward VIII, the talk of conspiracy theory over the death of Princess Diana, and now whether Prince Charles should be King on his mother's demise.  I suppose there always will be contentious opinions around people in power.

Mrs. Eleanor Roosevelt

An item on the radio programme "Today" held my attention this morning.  Alison Skilbeck was interviewed about her One Woman show about Mrs. Eleanor Roosevelt, the wife of the former president of the United States.  The actress talked of Mrs. Roosevelt's visit to London in 1942.

During the Second World War, I worked as a Clerical Officer on shift duties in a small room in the basement of the Home Office in Whitehall.  This was the hub of Civil Defence for the U.K.  There were seven people on each shift, three C.O.s and a shorthand-typist (all girls) and three male Officers of the Watch.

We had many important visitors.  King George VI, Winston Churchill, John Winant, the U.S. ambassador and Chiefs of Staff, who came to discuss the bombing with the O.O.W.s.  I particularly remember Mrs. Roosevelt as she made a point of coming round to talk to me and to the other girls to ask us about our work and how we travelled to work in the air raids. Nobody had asked us this before. We were just expected to turn up regardless. I thought she was a most kind and gracious lady.

Baby Jack and his two Uncles

Last Saturday was a Red Letter Day.   My daughter-in-law had come from France  with my two young grandsons to stay in Folkestone for half-term and to visit my granddaughter and baby Jack  They all came to Hove for the day, which was lovely.

Today is a bright Spring morning with a promise of warmer weather to come.  We have seen the end of February Filldyke, as my mother used to call it!