Boxmoor and District Probus

Monthly Newsletter

Number 3, June 2020

A Message From The Outgoing Chairman

You will by now have seen the message from the Club Secretary in which he explained how the Club will move forward during the restrictions placed upon our activity by the Covid-19 virus. In taking its decisions the Committee‘s primary concerns were the continuity of the Club and the welfare of the members. At the time of writing this I am still Chairman but by the time you read it I will have handed over to Andy Cunningham. I wish him well in his year of office and hope that we can resume operations in time for him to enjoy undertaking the normal tasks of the Club Chairman. The AGM gives the outgoing Chairman the opportunity to give a short address in which he reviews his year in office and gives his personal thanks to those who have contributed to the running of the Club. As we are not holding an AGM this year I will take the opportunity to write it down and publish it here in the Newsletter. At the moment the Covid-19 virus, the lockdown and all that they entail are prominent in our minds and, I have to say, have occupied the minds of the Committee a great deal in the last two and a half months. It is easy to forget that prior to the current situation we had been having a pretty good year. The Secretary mentioned some of our activities in the report that he distributed. I particularly remember the Barbecue which, as usual, brought out all that is best in the Club. Its success can be put down, in no small part, to the contributions made by the members and their ladies, not forgetting the splendid location for which we are most grateful to Keith and Hilary Hamshere. The trip to Winchester Christmas Market followed by an early Christmas dinner in Winchester was a successful innovation and, of course, our proper Christmas lunch at Boxmoor Lodge was a great success, as usual. I would like to express my thanks to Andy Cunningham and Steve Jacklin, who have organised the social events, to Dave Norris who has organised theatre trips and to Geoff Kirk who has handled the financial arrangements for them. The success of these events is an important part of the Club. Our monthly meetings have been well attended and my thanks go to Pete Randall for providing an interesting variety of speakers. Although a little lower than a few years ago the membership numbers have stabilised and we are hoping that interest

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in the Club can be sustained during lockdown and that everyone returns to take part in Club activities when the crisis is over. Keith Hamshere, who is leaving the Committee, has done a sterling job as Care Secretary and I am particularly grateful to him for the way he has been making regular contact with more vulnerable members and those who live alone. All Committee members have played their part, performing their individual functions as well as making valuable contributions to discussions at monthly Committee meetings and, more recently, video-conference meetings using Zoom. Geoff Kirk and Dave Norris, with assistance from Ian Burton have the less glamorous, administrative jobs on the Committee but without their dedication to their tasks the Club would soon fall apart. Finally, I must acknowledge the contribution made by Andy in editing and publishing this Newsletter and all those who have submitted contributions. It doesn‘t make up for missing our meetings and our social events but it helps to remind us all that our Club still exists. I look forward to meeting you all again. In the meantime stay healthy and safe. Mike Beavington ------A Message From The Incoming Acting Chairman

Although I could be the first Chairman of Boxmoor and District Probus who is destined never to chair a meeting, I do still feel it is a great honour to be given the opportunity to lead our great Club. Mike Beavington is going to be a very hard act to follow. Having been club secretary for many years before becoming our Chairman, Mike knows and understands so much about the club. Fortunately he is still going to be on the committee to keep me on the straight and narrow. Thank you Mike for all you have done for the Club, but particularly thank you for guiding the committee through these last couple of months to ensure we are set fair for the rest of this bumpy period.

When a few years ago Peter Hopes, my good friend and close neighbour, asked me if I would like to come to a Probus meeting as his guest, little did I imagine being asked by Chris Gower to join the committee let alone ending up as Chairman. I probably should thank Peter and Chris, but maybe I will wait until the year is over before deciding if I still want to.

I was a keen Boy Scout (now called Scouts) in my youth and in fact became a Queen‘s Scout. I still remember my Scout promise. It begins, for those who weren‘t Boy Scouts, ―I promise to do my best . . .‖ That is all I can promise you for this year, but I have a strong committee behind me and I hope that together we can guide the club through these turbulent times to happier days.

Andy Cunningham 2

A huge thank you

After 12 years in the kitchen Margaret Cooper has decided to hang up her tea towel. Sadly gentlemen we have to announce that Margaret has decided to step down from making and serving our Tea and Coffee at meetings. For 12 years now Margaret has cheerfully served us coffee and organised the team of ladies. Additionally, for many years we ran a November Cheese and Wine meeting and our records show that Margaret made all of the mince pies, filled with her own mincemeat, and prepared the rest of the food. We think we have uncovered evidence that she has been doing this since 2004.

Margaret, your cheerful smile and warm welcome will be missed, we thank you very much for all the help you have given the club over this long period. On behalf of the club we sent Margaret some flowers and she has sent us the thank you card below.

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Congratulations to David Lloyd

Heartiest congratulations to David who celebrates his 90th Birthday this month. David now brings the number of the club‘s nonagenarians to seven. Have an enjoyable day David. ------Support during Lock down

From Keith Hamshere – outgoing care secretary

Keith has been calling members who we know are living alone or may need help during lockdown. If you know of any member who could do with a chat please let Tom Derbyshire know who is taking over from Keith as Care Secretary and he will add them to his call list Below are some useful contact numbers of organisations that are extremely helpful and would not hesitate to assist those that are finding it difficult to shop or get their medication:  HERTS HELP Tel: 0300-123-4044 www.hertshelp.net

 AGE UK Dacorum Tel: 01442-259-049 www.ageuk.org.uk/dacorum They will do a door to door service

 Community Action Dacorum Tel: 01442-253-935 https://www.communityactiondacorum.org

Their transport department on Tel: 01442-212-888 will do one stop one shop shopping but can charge £5 per visit and are open Monday-Friday 9am-5pm ------Headlines

From Pete Randall

―Something went wrong in jet crash, Expert says‖ No, really? ―Police Begin Campaign to Run Down Jaywalkers‖ Now that‘s taking things too far! ―Panda Mating Fails Veterinarian takes over.‖ What a guy! ―Miners Refuse to Work after Death‖ Lazy so-and-sos ―Juvenile Court to Try Shooting Defendant‖ See if that works better than a fair trial! ―Cold Wave Linked to Temperatures‖ Who would have thought! ―Enfield Couple Slain‖ Police Suspect Homicide! ―Red Tape Holds up Bridges‖ What no Sellotape? ―New Study of Obesity Looks for a Larger Test Group‖ Weren‘t they fat enough? ―Kids Make Nutritious Snacks‖ Taste like chicken!

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The Damascus Souk and its Perfume Man

By Richard Lyne

Health warning: this article contains mention of ladies’ underwear – those of a tender disposition should please skip it!

With the Syrian conflict, Damascus is currently going through a particularly bleak and sad period in its long history. When I lived there back in the late seventies, it was a colourful and vibrant place, with only the occasional bomb or assassination attempt to keep us on our toes. The bazaar or souk is always the heart of any city in the Middle East, and Souk Hamidiyah in Damascus was (and I fervently hope is) a truly wonderful place. A bustling busy avenue of cheerful people enjoying a social occasion while buying their daily needs. The big difference between a Middle Eastern bazaar and a European market or mall is that all the shops and traders selling one item are gathered together rather than all mixed up. So, one progresses through the bazaar passing the leather sandals souk, the vegetable souk, the handicraft souk, the jewellery souk and so on. One could find some form of almost anything somewhere in Souk Hamidiyah. My favourite discovery was an alarm clock in the shape of a mosque which, when it went off loudly in the morning, played the Muslim call to prayer. Alas, it packed up remarkably quickly (to this day I suspect sabotage by my nearest and dearest!). After walking the length of Souk Hamidiyah, one comes to the Umayyad Mosque, one of the oldest and largest mosques in the world, which, curiously, one reaches by going through the ruins of the Roman Temple of Jupiter. In this mosque resides one of John the Baptist‘s heads (at least half a dozen other locations also claim to have his head!). Before reaching the mosque, several avenues run from the main street of the souk along to the parallel Street Called Straight (of Biblical fame). In one of these was to be found the part of the souk that sells ladies underwear. All the traders in this area had large numbers of pink bras hanging down from their kiosks and stores, dangling above piles of other pink items. So, anyone passing by was confronted by a veritable forest of bras, some of eye watering proportions and engineering, all rather distant cousins of what is to be found in Marks & Spencer! Not surprisingly, the area became widely known to the western community as the Armour-Plated Bra Souk! Having left this startling forest behind, one reached a small unassuming shop on the corner with the Street Called Straight. This shop was owned by a tall old Arab with what can only accurately, if unkindly, be described as a huge nose – he was known to us all as the Perfume Man. The modus operandi of the Perfume Man was simple but quite remarkable. One took along to him a bottle of expensive perfume, say Channel Number Five. He would

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open the bottle, shut his eyes, sniff hard and nod. He would then reach for the array of bottles behind him, put a bit of this and a bit of that and a bit of the other into a fresh bottle and very quickly handed the resulting potion over, charging only a few lira – very little. Low and behold, his potion was completely indistinguishable from the original. Sad to report, there was a snag. After a while, one‘s shirt collars started developing a strange yellow/brown tinge. Indeed, the collar of one of my go-to posh shirts, which had quite a bit of exposure to the Perfume Man‘s version of my then favoured Bengal Lancer eau de toilette (it was, after all, the seventies!), actually started to disintegrate and fell to bits. Which, I guess, proves that, even in Damascus, all that glitters is not gold! ------

Spotted by Ian Burton on a walk.

―Feed me Mum!‖

Impatient driver gets his reward

From Tom Derbyshire

We were on our way back from the weekly shopping trip to Sainsburys. We turned into Barnacres (The road between Belswains Lane and Bennets End shops) The road is quite narrow and has several small raised islands with bollards in the middle of the road. We turned in behind a tractor pulling a trailer full of manure, so I left myself a couple of car lengths behind it. Behind me was a youth in a shiny BMW flashing me as if to say get on past him I‘m in a hurry. I ignored the signals -the next thing I knew he was passing me on the opposite side of the road, and he pulled in sharply in front of me applying his brakes at the same time. I shouted, ―Silly Billy‖ (you can add a more appropriate comment to replace this if you wish). A little further up the road the trailer‘s rear wheels went over the kerb stone of one of the raised islands and bumped down hard on the other side of it releasing a shower

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of manure onto the shiny BMW. Margaret and I let out a cheer as the driver collected his reward!

Editor’s comment, “Shame he didn’t have his sunroof down!”

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Ashridge management college By Derek Saunders For the final 25 years of my career I worked as a Tutor at Ashridge Management College. I know that several Probus members have attended courses there. Ashridge House has about 300 acres of land and is situated in Ashridge Park. The house is old, with over 100 bedrooms, and was designed for the Duke of Bridgewater. He is better known as the Canal Duke. The house has had a varied career. Firstly, it was a gift to the Conservative party and was theirs until 1922. During the war it was a maternity hospital and occasionally a course member would reveal that he had been born there. In the 1960s it became a management college. It had been bought by a group of industrialists for educational purposes who stipulated that we must not go back to them and ask for more money. Fortunately for us, in the 1970s the Government introduced the Industrial Training Levy which helped the College considerably. To begin with a course cost £65 per week, fully inclusive. The salaries were proportionately lower. I started on £2400 p.a. The phrase Management Development was developed about this time so we had a fairly free hand as to what it would mean! There was a small Research Department already at Ashridge and we created teams in Marketing, Behavioural Studies, Finance and Information. The courses started on Sunday evening and consisted of longish days, including evening sessions. There was nearly always a Tutor introduction of the sessions. The days were fairly long! The formal sessions were reinforced by group work and de-briefings. The mornings sessions lasted 3 or 4 hours up until lunchtime. There was a similar pattern in the afternoon and a further one hour session in the evening after dinner. So, the days were fairly arduous for all concerned. But many lasting friendships were made and new contacts established. We were fortunate to have course members from overseas. We ran several long courses tailored for overseas managers, in particular for Egyptians. This greatly enhanced the experience for all concerned. Gradually the number of overseas participants increased as did the number of female participants.

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Managers could come on a general course open to all companies or on one tailored to their particular requirements. The general style was informative and challenging. There was absolutely NO feedback to the sponsoring companies. With the arrival of computers and calculators and personality profiles there were many more options. It was a small complex business continuously probing and successful for staff and course members alike. The courses were nearly always successful and well received. Personally, I taught Finance. I ran courses in Holland, Egypt, Hong Kong, Dubai, Australia as well as the UK. We have several good friends from this overseas work. I often thought we should offer to run Management Courses for MPs!

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Wildflowers in the centre of Hemel Hempstead - between The Water Gardens and Leighton Buzzard Road.

Spotted by Mike Beavington

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Shoplifting one of the biggest annoyances a store manager has to cope with.

From Tom Derbyshire

Kilburn NW6 was the first store I managed big enough to warrant the employment of a permanent store detective. Company policy dictated that the suspect had to be outside the door on the pavement before he or she was arrested. The store detective had to then bring the suspect back into the security office or managers office and explain the story to the store manager who then decided what action should be taken. On one occasion the Area security officer, a retired policeman, was in store training a new store detective. They arrested a pleasant looking and well-dressed old man who had in his possession a cheap bottle of aftershave. The story was related, and the old man admitted he had forgotten to pay, was extremely sorry and offered to pay. The area security man asked me if he could have a word outside the office. I stepped out and he said that he thought that the way the conversation was going I was about to let him off. I said that I was, and he said that you are the store manager the decision is yours, but I would advise that you contact the police. I went back into the office and told the old man that I was going to ring for the police. Whilst waiting for the police the man asked if he could slip out as he had left his car on a double yellow line and did not want to be caught for that as well. I refused and said I would pass that comment on to the police. When the police arrived and arrested the old man, I passed on the comment about the position of his car, so the policeman said we will go there on the way to the station. The area security man, who knew the arresting officer, asked if he could accompany them to the car. When they got there, they found £70 worth of unpaid merchandise from my store inside his boot. -so clearly, he had been in and out over a period of time slowly accumulating his goods. It was from that time on that I made it my own policy to call the police on every occasion.

Moving on many years I was confronted with a similar situation in Luton -and this will make you smile. The store detective had arrested a middle-aged lady with one packet of razorblades. When I announced that I was going to call the police she said ―What !!-for a packet of razor blades!!! -if you do, I will never come into this store again!!‘-quite a satisfactory result I thought.

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The Wine Taster

From Vic Johnson

At a winery, the regular taster died and the director started looking for a new one to hire. A drunkard with a ragged, dirty look came in to apply for the position. The director of the winery wondered how to send him away. He gave him a glass to drink. The drunk tried it and said, 'It's a Muscat, three years old, grown on a north slope, matured in steel containers. Low grade, but acceptable'. 'That's correct', said the boss. Another glass... 'This is a Cabernet, eight years old, a south-western slope, oak barrels, matured at 8 degrees. Requires three more years for finest results.' 'Correct.' A third glass... 'It's a Pinot Blanc Champagne , high grade and exclusive', the drunk said calmly. The director was astonished. He winked at his secretary, secretly suggesting something. She left the room, and came back in with a glass of urine. The alcoholic tried it. 'It's a blonde, 26 years old, three months pregnant, and if I don't get the job I'll name the father.' ------

From Arthur Brown.

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A few more memories of Old Hemel

From John Baldwin

I thought I would add a note to Peter Hopes‘ very interesting item ‗A Few Memories of Hemel Hempstead – Pre New Town‘.

Mansbridge Bakers was started in 1885 by Fred Mansbridge and stayed in the family until the shop finally closed about seven years ago. However, that was not the end of the baking story. At the time of closure the shop was owned by Steven Mansbridge, Fred‘s great (or great great) nephew. Since then Steven has been the baker at Redbournbury Mill, baking artisan loaves, buns and cakes using organic flour produced by the mill.

How do I know this? It‘s all down to the cows at Bunkers Park (see May Newsletter). My contact at Box Moor Trust is the Senior Ranger and Stockman, Bob Mansbridge, Steven‘s son.

For anyone who hasn‘t visited Redbournbury Mill, it is well worth the trip. It is in a picturesque setting beside the River Ver and tours of the mill are very interesting, with the mill operating and producing flour on most Sundays. The bakery is only open at limited times but if it is open when you are there the bread and the Eccles cakes are to die for.

The mill is in Redbournbury Lane, off the A5183 Redbourn Road, about a mile south of Redbourn village. Check the website for opening times https://www.redbournburymill.co.uk. Inevitably, it is closed at present.

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The day the queen wished me ‘bon voyage’ – on her ship

By John Baldwin

My son was a member of the crew of HMY Britannia during the early nineties and this led to my experience of this beautiful ship.

Every year the Yacht would transport Her Majesty for her summer visit to Balmoral. She would sail via the western isles, around the north of Scotland and put in to Aberdeen where the Queen would disembark. The Yacht would then sail back to Portsmouth ‗empty‘.

I believe it was 1992 when Her Majesty decreed that a number of fathers of the crew and some members of the Queen‘s Flight (I believe 36 in total) may care to occupy the Royal Household quarters on the Yacht for the 48 hour voyage to Portsmouth. The lucky ones were decided by ballot and when the same opportunity occurred the following year my name came out of the hat.

So it was that on the morning of Saturday 14th August 1993 I made my way to Aberdeen Harbour. The Yacht arrived with due ceremony, the crew lining the decks and local dignitaries gathered on the quay. Our small band was held behind a rope about twenty feet away. The gangway was put in place and the Queen and the Duke of Edinburgh descended to meet those in the receiving line. The Queen spoke briefly to everyone but upon reaching the end of the line she turned round to find Prince Philip chatting to someone at the other end. Quite unusually this briefly left the Queen in limbo so she walked over to our party and, for no apparent reason, singled me out. She enquired if my son was a member of the crew, asked if I was sailing back to Portsmouth and then wished me a pleasant voyage. I could not have wished for a more memorable send off. (Only disappointment – nobody took a picture)

A short while later we were welcomed on board and shown to our quarters, I remember my cabin as small but pleasant with dark brown furniture, a single bed and a desk. Over the next 48 hours, with perfect weather, we were treated to tours of the bridge, the engine room and the royal apartments, a mini-concert by the Royal Marines band, clay pigeon shooting from the deck, a flag demonstration and drinks in the Chart House, the wardroom and the mess. Meals were taken with the crew in the mess and during free time we were given great freedom to look around the ship.

The glorious culmination was sailing in to Portsmouth Harbour two days later and waving to those welcoming Britannia back to her home port.

The pictures show the Yacht arriving in Aberdeen, the Queen at the receiving line, composite picture of my cabin, at the Binnacle, clay pigeon shooting and, finally, my son Michael with the crew lining the decks (third from left on lower deck)

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The Great Escape Tunnel

Provided by Arthur Brown

Untouched for almost seven decades, the tunnel used in the Great Escape has finally been unearthed. The 111-yard passage nicknamed 'Harry' by Allied prisoners was sealed by the Germans after the audacious break-out from the POW camp Stalag Luft III in western Poland. Despite huge interest in the subject, encouraged by the film starring Steve McQueen, the tunnel lay undisturbed over the decades because it was behind the Iron Curtain and the Soviet Union had no interest in its significance.

But at last British archaeologists have excavated it and discovered its remarkable secrets.

Many of the bed boards which had been joined together to stop it collapsing were still in position. And the ventilation shaft, ingeniously crafted from used powdered milk containers known as Klim Tins, remained in working order.

Scattered throughout the tunnel, which is 30ft below ground, were bits of old metal buckets, hammers and crowbars which were used to hollow out the route.

A total of 600 prisoners worked on three tunnels at the same time. They were nicknamed Tom, Dick and Harry and were just 2 ft. square for most of their length. It

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was on the night of March 24 and 25, 1944, that 76 Allied airmen escaped through Harry.

Barely a third of the 200 prisoners, many in fake German uniforms and civilian outfits and carrying false identity papers, who were meant to slip away managed to leave before the alarm was raised when escapee number 77 was spotted.

Only three made it back to Britain. Another 50 were executed by firing squad on the orders of Adolf Hitler, who was furious after learning of the breach of security. In all, 90 boards from bunk beds, 62 tables, 34 chairs and 76 benches, as well as thousands of items including knives, spoons, forks, towels and blankets, were squirreled away by the Allied prisoners to aid the escape plan under the noses of their captors.

Although the Hollywood movie suggested otherwise, NO Americans were involved in the operation. Most were British, and the others were from Canada, (all the tunnelers were Canadian personnel with backgrounds in mining) Poland, New Zealand, Australia, and South Africa.

The site of the tunnel, recently excavated by British archaeologist's latest dig, over three weeks in August, located the entrance to Harry, which was originally concealed under a stove in Hut 104.

The team also found another tunnel, called George, whose exact position had not been charted. It was never used as the 2,000 prisoners were forced to march to other camps as the Red Army approached in January 1945.

Watching the excavation was Gordie King, 91, an RAF radio operator, who was 140th in line to use Harry and therefore missed out. 'This brings back such bitter- sweet memories‘, he said as he wiped away tears. 'I'm amazed by what they've found.‘

Gordie King, 91, made an emotional return to Stalag Luft III.

In a related post:

Many of the recent generations have no true notion of the cost in lives and treasure that were paid for the liberties that we enjoy in this United States. They also have no idea in respect of the lengths that the “greatest generation” went to in order to preserve those liberties. Below is one true, small and entertaining story regarding those measures that are well worth reading, even if the only thing derived from the story is entertainment.

Escape from WWII POW Camps — starting in 1940, an increasing number of British and Canadian Airmen found themselves as the involuntary guests of the Third Reich, and they were casting about for ways and means to facilitate their escape.

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Now obviously, one of the most helpful aids to that end is a useful and accurate map, one showing not only where stuff was, but also showing the locations of 'safe houses' where a POW on-the-run could go for food and shelter.

Paper maps had some real drawbacks - they make a lot of noise when you open and fold them, they wear out rapidly, and if they get wet, they turn into mush.

Someone in MI5 (similar to America's OSS) got the idea of printing escape maps on silk. It's durable, can be scrunched-up into tiny wads and, unfolded as many times as needed and, makes no noise whatsoever.

At that time, there was only one manufacturer in Great Britain that had perfected the technology of printing on silk, and that was John Waddington Ltd. When approached by the government, the firm was only too happy to do its bit for the war effort.

By pure coincidence, Waddington was also the U.K. Licensee for the popular American board game Monopoly. As it happened, 'games and pastimes' was a category of item qualified for insertion into 'CARE packages', dispatched by the International Red Cross to prisoners of war.

Under the strictest of secrecy, in a securely guarded and inaccessible old workshop on the grounds of Waddington's, a group of sworn-to-secrecy employees began mass-producing escape maps, keyed to each region of Germany, Italy, and France or wherever Allied POW camps were located. When processed, these maps could be folded into such tiny dots that they would actually fit inside a Monopoly playing piece.

As long as they were at it, the clever workmen at Waddington's also managed to add:

1 A playing token, containing a small magnetic compass. 2. A two-part metal file that could easily be screwed together. 3. Useful amounts of genuine high-denomination German, Italian, and French currency, hidden within the piles of Monopoly money!

British and American air crews were advised, before taking off on their first mission, how to identify a 'rigged' Monopoly set – by means of a tiny red dot, one cleverly rigged to look like an ordinary printing glitch, located in the corner of the Free Parking square.

Of the estimated 35,000 Allied POWS who successfully escaped, an estimated one- third were aided in their flight by the rigged Monopoly sets. Everyone who did so was sworn to secrecy indefinitely, since the British Government might want to use this highly successful ruse in still another future war.

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The story wasn't declassified until 2007, when the surviving craftsmen from Waddington's, as well as the firm itself, were finally honoured in a public ceremony.

It's always nice when you can play that 'Get Out of Jail Free' card!

Some readers of this email are probably too young to have any personal connection to WWII (Sep. '39 to Aug. '45), but this is still an interesting bit of history for everyone to know.

------Social climber

By John Baldwin

During the 1980s a good friend of ours was RSM in the Scots Guards, stationed at The Horseguards and involved in the organisation of many state occasions. One year he gave us tickets for the dress rehearsal of the annual Royal Military Tattoo. The tickets were for seats on the upper tier of the stand backing on to Downing Street. The stands were built on scaffolding and we were seated close to the edge with one spare seat next to Yvonne. About two minutes before the start we were slightly alarmed by movement on the ground below us and saw a figure climbing up the scaffolding. He made it to the seating area and sat down next to Yvonne. We immediately recognised him as Dennis Thatcher who had emerged from a gate to the garden of No.10. He exchanged a few pleasantries and at the end of the tattoo bade us good night and climbed back down to his home. An interesting and unexpected encounter.

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Generation gap

By Pete Randall

Old have never got on with young! ‖It was different when we were kids‖ is the cry, but was it?

Times have changed indeed. We used expressions today‘s generation don‘t understand, for example, ‗Pull the chain‘, ‗Make the grate up‘, ‗Walk to school‘ ‗Take your cap off indoors‘. The baseball cap nowadays has replaced the working man‘s cap.

A young lady would say to her boyfriend, ―Don‘t let my mother see your tattoos, wear a long sleeved shirt till she gets used to you‖ Now? The mother has more tattoos than Popeye. ―Going to the Gym‖ When we finished work we were too knackered to go to the gym.

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―Sell by‘, best before‘, and ‗use by‘ Dates, huh! When we were kids it was called mould! Your mother would cut off the mould and say, ―It won‘t do you any harm!‖ Remember if a baby spat its dummy out, Mum would lick it clean and put it back!

In fifty year‘s time some grandchild will ask, ―What‘s that shiny thing on your knee, granny?‖ ―Oh that, it‘s my belly button piercing!‖ Yuk I hear you say.

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Out of the mouth of babes

From Arthur Brown

I‘m one, even a Great granddad/////////// How grandchildren perceive their grandparents

1. I was in the bathroom, putting on my makeup, under the watchful eyes of my young granddaughter, as I'd done many times before. After I applied my lipstick and started to leave, the little one said, "But Grandma, you forgot to kiss the toilet paper good-bye!" I will probably never put lipstick on again without thinking about kissing the toilet paper good-bye....

2. My young grandson called the other day to wish me Happy Birthday. He asked me how old I was, and I told him, 92. My grandson was quiet for a moment, and then he asked, "Did you start at 1?"

3. After putting her grandchildren to bed, a grandmother changed into old slacks and a droopy blouse and proceeded to wash her hair. As she heard the children getting more and more rambunctious, her patience grew thin. Finally, she threw a towel around her head and stormed into their room, putting them back to bed with stern warnings. As she left the room, she heard the three- year-old say with a trembling voice, "Who was THAT?"

4. A grandmother was telling her little granddaughter what her own childhood was like. "We used to skate outside on a pond. I had a swing made from a tyre; it hung from a tree in our front yard. We rode our pony. We picked wild raspberries in the woods." The little girl was wide-eyed, taking this all in. At last she said, "I sure wish I'd gotten to know you sooner!"

5. My grandson was visiting one day when he asked, "Grandma, do you know how you and God are alike?" I mentally polished my halo and I said, "No, how are we alike?'' "You're both old," he replied.

6. A little girl was diligently pounding away on her grandfather's word processor. She told him she was writing a story. "What's it about?" he asked. 17

"I don't know," she replied. "I can't read."

7. I didn't know if my granddaughter had learned her colours yet, so I decided to test her. I would point out something and ask what colour it was. She would tell me and was always correct. It was fun for me, so I continued. At last, she headed for the door, saying, "Grandma, I really think you should try to figure out some of these colours yourself!"

8. When my grandson Billy and I entered our vacation cabin, we kept the lights off until we were inside to keep from attracting pesky insects. Still, a few fireflies followed us in. Noticing them before I did, Billy whispered, "It's no use Grandpa. Now the mosquitoes are coming after us with flashlights."

9. When my grandson asked me how old I was, I teasingly replied, "I'm not sure." "Look in your underwear, Grandpa," he advised "Mine says I'm 4 to 6." (WOW! I really like this one -- it says I'm only '38'!)

10. An eight year old came home from school and said to her grandmother, "Grandma, guess what? We learned how to make babies today." The grandmother, more than a little surprised, tried to keep her cool. "That's interesting." she said. "How do you make babies?" "It's simple," replied the girl. "You just change 'y' to 'i' and add 'es'."

11. Children's Logic: "Give me a sentence about a public servant," said a teacher. The small boy wrote: "The fireman came down the ladder pregnant." The teacher took the lad aside to correct him. "Don't you know what pregnant means?" she asked. "Sure," said the young boy confidently. 'It means carrying a child."

12. A grandfather was delivering his grandchildren to their home one day when a fire engine zoomed past. Sitting in the front seat of the fire engine was a Dalmatian dog. The children started discussing the dog's duties. "They use him to keep crowds back," said one child. "No," said another. "He's just for good luck." A third child brought the argument to a close. ―They use the dogs," she said firmly, "to find the fire hydrants."

13. A 6-year-old was asked where his grandma lived. "Oh," he said, "she lives at the airport, and whenever we want her, we just go get her. Then, when we're done having her visit, we take her back to the airport."

14. Grandpa is the smartest man on earth! He teaches me good things, but I don't get to see him enough to get as smart as him!

15. My Grandparents are funny, when they bend over, you hear gas leaks and they blame their dog.

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Dazed and Confused

Also from Arthur Brown

While riding my Harley, I swerved to avoid hitting a deer, lost control and landed in a ditch, severely banging my head.

Dazed and confused I crawled out of the ditch to the edge of the road when a shiny new convertible pulled up with a very beautiful woman driver who asked, "Are you okay?"

As I looked up, I noticed she was wearing a low-cut blouse.

"I'm okay I think," I replied as I pulled myself up to the side of the car to get a closer look.

She said, "Get in and I'll take you home, so I can clean and bandage that nasty scrape on your head."

"That's nice of you," I answered, "but I don't think my wife will like me doing that!"

"Oh, come now, I'm a nurse," she insisted. "I need to see if you have any more scrapes and then treat them properly."

Well, she was really pretty and very persuasive. Being sort of shaken and weak, I agreed, but repeated, "I'm sure my wife won't like this."

We arrived at her place which was just a few miles away and, after a couple of cold beers and the bandaging, I thanked her and said, "I feel a lot better, but I know my wife is going to be really upset so I'd better go now."

"Don't be silly!" she said with a smile. "Stay for a while. She won't know anything. By the way, where is she?"

"Still in the ditch, I guess."

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Taking one for the team

From Tom Derbyshire

Two men aged 90 have been friends all their lives, done everything together and are mad keen on football.

One is taken ill and his friend goes to see him. He can see he has not much longer to live so he asks him when you get to heaven see if you can play football up there. His friend agrees to let him know and with that passes away.

Two days later the friend hears his name being called, ―Joe.‖ ―Who‘s that?‖ ―It‘s me Bill.‖ ―It can‘t be your dead.‖ ―I‘m in heaven and you asked me to find out about playing football remember. I have some good news and some bad news which would you like first?‖ ―The good news.‖ ―Well I‘m up here now, I‘m young again and all our friends are with me and we can play football all day long.‖ ―That‘s great.‖ said Joe, ―What‘s the bad news?‖

―YOUR NAMES ON THE TEAM SHEET FOR SATURDAY.‖

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It‘s still Springtime

From Allan Sellers – Garden all trim and cherry tree in blossom.

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Tommy Cooper

From Harry Bellak Tommy Cooper was born in Caerphilly in 1921. He was delivered by the woman who owned the house in which the family were lodging. The family moved to Exeter, when Cooper was three. It was in Exeter that he acquired the West Country accent that became part of his act. When he was eight an aunt bought him a magic set and he spent hours perfecting the tricks. After school Cooper became a shipwright in Southampton Tommy‘s first performance to a large audience was at a concert in front of his workmates He did a trick where he turned a milk bottle upside down and the milk was supposed to stay in the bottle. Instead, the milk spilt out, all over the floor. Tommy realised that he got more audience reaction when this trick went wrong than when his other tricks had gone as planned. This was when he got the idea to plan for tricks to go wrong. In 1940 he was called up into the Royal Horse Guards, serving for seven years. He joined Montgomery's Desert Rats in Egypt, became a member of the NAAFI entertainment party, and developed an act around his magic tricks interspersed with comedy. One evening in Cairo, during a sketch, when he was supposed to wear a pith helmet, he realised he had forgotten it. So he reached out and borrowed a fez from a

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passing waiter, which got huge laughs. He always wore a fez, when performing after that. This prop later being described as "an icon of 20th-century comedy.‖ He started making "mistakes" on purpose when he was performing in the NAAFI shows. To keep the audience on their toes Cooper threw in an occasional trick that worked when it was least expected.

Cooper was demobbed after seven years of military service and took up show business in 1947. He developed his conjuring skills and became a member of The Magic Circle. Tommy failed his first audition at the BBC. His Audition Report Card said: ―Unattractive Young Man. Indistinct speaking voice. Extremely unfortunate appearance.‖ He was considered a big bumbling working class person and not smooth enough for the BBC, where there was innate snobbery at that time. However, following his great success in live theatre (and club) shows, the BBC took him on, and he became famous for his comedy and magic. Cooper also became famous for his one line jokes, and, thanks to his many television shows during the mid-1970s, he became one of the most recognisable comedians in the world of that era.

Here are some of Tommy Cooper‘s thousands of jokes: (I hope you enjoy them):

 I met my wife at a dance. I thought she was at home with the kids.  I sleep like a baby. Every morning I wake up screaming around 2 o‘clock.  I worry that as soon as I get into bed I drop off. I‘d better order a bigger bed.  I saw an old tramp walking down the street wearing one shoe. I said: ―Hey, you lost your shoe.‖ He said: ―No I found one.  The plumber asked the woman where is the drip? She said: ―He‘s in the bathroom trying to fix the leak.‖  This officer stopped me and said: ―Why are you driving with a bucket of water on the passenger‘s seat?‖ I said: ―So that I can dip my headlights.‖  This guy walked up to me the other night and said: ―Quick, did you see a policeman around here?‖ I said no. He said: ―Good. Stick‘em up.‖  My uncle was a great conductor. He was struck by lightning.  My father invented a burglar alarm but someone stole it.  When the nurse told my mother she had an eight pound bundle of joy, she said: ―Thank goodness the laundry is back.‖  I went to buy some camouflage trousers the other day but I couldn't find any.  I bought some HP sauce the other day. It's costing me 6p a month for the next 2 years.  Police arrested two kids yesterday, one was drinking battery acid, and the other was eating fireworks. They charged one and let the other one off.

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 Two fish in a tank, one says to the other - you drive I'll man the guns  A guy walks into a pub with a lump of asphalt on his shoulder, He says to the bar man give us a pint and one for the road.  I went to the doctors the other day and I said, ―Have you got anything for wind?‖ So he gave me a kite.  I cleaned the attic with the wife the other day. Now I can't get the cobwebs out of her hair.  A woman told her doctor, 'I've got a bad back. 'The doctor said, 'It's old age.' The woman said, 'I want a second opinion. 'The doctor says, 'OK. you're ugly as well.'  A man walked into the doctor's. He said ―I've hurt my arm in several places.‖ The doctor said ―Well don't go THERE any more.‖  So I knocked on the door at this Bed & Breakfast and a lady stuck her head out of the window and said: ―What do you want?‖ I said, ―'I want to stay here.‖ She said, ―Well stay there.‖ and shut the window.  I'm on a whiskey diet. I've lost three days already  "Man went into a bar. He went 'Ouch'. It was an iron bar.  D'you know, somebody actually complimented me on my driving today. They left a little note on the windscreen. It said "Parking Fine." So that was nice.  My dog was barking at everyone the other day. Still, what can you expect from a cross-breed.  I said to the gym instructor "Can you teach me to do the splits?‖ He said "How flexible are you?‖ I said "I can't make Tuesdays."  A man goes into the doctors. The doctor says, ―Go over to the window and stick your tongue out.‖ Man says, ―Why?‖ The doctor says, ―I don't like my neighbours.‖  Our ice cream man was found lying on the floor of his van covered with hundreds and thousands. Police say that he topped himself.  We were coming in to land, and it affects your ears, doesn't it? The Stewardess gave me chewing gum. I put it in my ear. Took two days to get it out.  This little old lady was frightened. She looked at me, she said 'Do something religious'. So I took up a collection.  A policeman stopped me the other night. He taps on the window of the car and says: ―Would you please blow into this bag, Sir.‖ I said, ―What for, Officer?‖ He says, ―My chips are too hot.‖ I got stopped again last night by another policeman. He says: ―'I'd like to follow you to the nearest Police Station.‖

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I said, ―What For?‖ He said, ―I've forgotten the way.‖

On 15 April 1984 Cooper collapsed from a heart attack in front of millions of television viewers, midway through his act on a London Weekend Television variety show The audience gave "uproarious" laughter as he fell backwards, gasping for air, thinking that it was part of his comedy act. But it wasn‘t. It was a sad end to a very funny man!

P.S. After Tommy died all of his scripts were bought by Paul Daniels, who was surprised to find that every minute detail of his acts including every pause, blink, movement of the head etc. was scripted. Most of his props were donated to the Magic Circle Museum, but some were donated to his ex Barclays Bank Manager and friend, who became a member of the Magic Circle, and who gives talks about Tommy Cooper and performs some of his magic tricks for local groups and charities.

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A field of Daisies – Bunkers Park

Spotted by Andy Cunningham

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A National Treasure - Fish and Chips

From Harry Bellak

The information below was extracted from an article on the wrapping paper covering Fish and Chips bought at Cape Verde Airport: Fish and Chips are the undisputed National dish of Great Britain, as British as Roast Beef and Yorkshire Pudding, and recognised as British the world over. Fried fish was first introduced to London by Jewish immigrants from Portugal and Spain as far back as the 17th. Century. The American President, Thomas Jefferson , described eating ―Fried fish in the Jewish fashion‖ at the end of the 18th. Century. Fried potatoes, as chips, probably originate from Belgium. The chip was first sold in the 1870s, in Dundee‘s Greenmarket, by a Belgian immigrant, Edward de Gernier. In Ireland, as legend has it, the first fish and chips were sold by an Italian immigrant, Giuseppe Cervi, who mistakenly stopped off an America-bound ship in County Cork and walked all the way to Dublin. He started selling fish and chips outside Dublin pubs from a handcart. It was presumably washed down with a glass of the dark stuff. His wife, Palma, would ask the customers ―Uno di questa, uno di quella.‖ This phrase, meaning ―one of this, and one of the other‖ entered the vernacular in Dublin as ―one and one,‖ which is still a way of referring to fish and chips in the city. From the 1870s on to the post-war years the fish and chip trade spread rapidly in London and the cotton and wool manufacturing towns of the Pennines, and soon became a readily accessible, hot, nutritious meal for many factory and mill workers, who could just about afford it. By 1910, there were around 25,000 fish and chip shops throughout the country, peaking at 35,000 by 1927, and between the wars most industrial towns boasted a chip shop on almost every street. Probably the most interesting and patriotic claim is that fish and chips helped win the First World War. During the First World War, Lloyd George‘s war cabinet recognised its importance to the Nation‘s working classes and ensured supplies were maintained ―off ration.,‖ During the D-Day landings of the Second World War, British soldiers identified each other by calling out ―fish,‖ and the response or password was ―chips.‖ Any other response and they would have certainly had their chips. Since the end of the Second World War, the food landscape in Great Britain has changed in many ways. The number of fish and chip shops will never again reach the level of the 1920s and 1930s, but the demand for fish and chips has remained high. It is fuelled by its increasing popularity as a staple of the gastro-pub menu. Hopefully a decent number of the gastro-pubs and fish and chip shops will survive the Corona Virus Shutdown.

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Some random thoughts about our world

From Tom Derbyshire

As I was lying around, pondering the problems of the world, I realised that at my age I don't really give a damn anymore. If walking is good for your health, the postman would be immortal. A whale swims all day, only eats fish, drinks water, but is still fat. A rabbit runs and hops and only lives 15 years, while a tortoise doesn't run and does mostly nothing, yet it lives for 150 years! And you tell me to exercise?? I don't think so.

Just grant me the senility to forget the people I never liked, the good fortune to remember the ones I do, and the eyesight to tell the difference. Now that I'm older here's what I've discovered:

1. I started out with nothing, and I still have most of it.

2. My wild oats are mostly enjoyed with prunes and all-bran.

3. I finally got my head together, and now my body is falling apart.

4. Funny, I don't remember being absent-minded.

5. Funny, I don't remember being absent-minded.

6. If all is not lost, then where the heck is it?

7. It was a whole lot easier to get older, than to get wiser.

8 Some days, you're the top dog, some days you're the fire hydrant.

9. I wish the buck really did stop here; I sure could use a few of them.

10. Kids in the back seat cause accidents.

11. Accidents in the back seat cause kids.

12. It's hard to make a comeback when you haven't been anywhere.

13. The world only beats a path to your door when you're in the bathroom.

14. If God wanted me to touch my toes, he'd have put them on my knees.

15. When I'm finally holding all the right cards, everyone wants to play chess.

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16. It's not hard to meet expenses . . . they're everywhere.

17. The only difference between a rut and a grave is the depth.

18. These days, I spend a lot of time thinking about the hereafter . .. .. I go somewhere to get something, and then wonder what I'm "hereafter"...

19. Funny, I don't remember being absent-minded.

20. HAVE I SENT THIS MESSAGE TO YOU BEFORE...... ? or did I get it from you?

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An innocent question from an 8 year old.

By Peter Balding

Tracing my ancestors started about 15 years ago when our youngest granddaughter then aged 8 asked a question for a school project, ‗what were your Grandma‘s names?‘ This posed quite a problem because neither myself nor my older brother knew the answer (she was known to us as Nanna) and documents which my brother had held were somehow lost due to various house moves over the years. Not wanting to disappoint a child with a thirst for knowledge I said I would find out. I suddenly remembered that my parent‘s silver wedding anniversary was the same month as our wedding in 1958 and thus began the search at the National Archives at Kew. At this stage my wife Mavis took over the mantle and researched my forebears as far back as the late 1700‘s. Research showed my maternal ancestor was Richard Hammond who was a blacksmith in a small village near Kings Lynn in Norfolk with 3 sons and a daughter and only the oldest son (also named Richard) became the apprentice to his father; the other sons and daughter found employment in other trades. The next 2 generations followed a similar path until my own Grandpa being a second son was apprenticed to a stonemason and having learnt his trade and heard that stonemasons were in demand to build a church in Newcastle on Tyne he packed his bags and found not only his chosen profession but his wife Annie Maria and settled there. His own 2 sons chose a different path, one a Master Mariner and the other an engineer. My mother Annie was his only daughter. The children of all these forebears were-widely spread out throughout the land in such jobs as farm hands, a station master, sailors, a boat builder, a ship‘s carpenter, a pianoforte maker, a fish merchant, a printer, a tea merchant, a parasol trimmer and one particular soldier in Kent was the father of Wally Hammond the English Cricket Captain.

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On my paternal side Abraham Balding from West London married a girl from Nottingham and settled in Hull as a customs officer in the docks. His Grandson John William was my Grandpa who after a spell in office work decided to make a career in the army and became Colour Sergeant Major with the Northumberland Fusiliers with tours as far afield as Africa and Ireland. He met his wife in Portsmouth whose father had served as an Army Officer in India for 20 years. John William and Annie had 4 sons and 4 Daughters, all of whom served King and Country. Three sons achieved the rank of either major, captain or sergeant and one daughter entertained troops abroad with ENSA whilst another served abroad with the Red Cross, both as honorary Captains. Through poor hearing and sight problems my own father did not achieve the positions of his siblings but was a survivor of the Dunkirk evacuation in WW2, and the only son with a family of his own, myself and my older brother Richard. Social history at its best! As for myself, a present of a John Bull printing outfit when I was about 8 set me on the path of a career in printing which has been my life‘s work and passionate hobby.

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A Muntjac Deer that calmly strolled in front of Ian and Sue Burton.

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Second World War and the tragedy that linked two mothers

By Jack Lawrence

I was 3 years old at the outbreak of the Second World War living with my parents and 6 siblings in a small village, Methwold, Norfolk, on the edge of the Fens. As was very common during the war in our village and elsewhere, the garden was fully used to grow vegetables; also hens were kept for their eggs and ultimately (I‘m sure) ‗for the pot‘ as these too became food for the family – plus the regular supply of wild rabbits which thrived in this type of countryside! Hence, although some key food items were in short supply, my mother was able to create meals for the family. In 1939, an airfield (one of a large number of airfields along the English east coast) was constructed very near the boundary of the village from where, initially, Wellington bombers took off; later in the war Lancaster bombers took off from the airfield. Part of this particular airfield was first recorded during the 1st World War when a Royal Flying Corps night landing ground was sited there in 1916. Methwold, at that time, housed a number of pubs which were ‗social meeting places‘ for villagers as well as the very many servicemen who were based in and around the area. My father would meet up with other villagers and servicemen on occasion and, being a sociable chatty person, would often invite the young service lads to go back home with him for a bite of supper. Somehow my mother was always able to produce a tasty bite. One lad, Joe Turner, in common with probably most of the other young lads, was a long way from his home which was near Walsall in Staffordshire and so appreciated being welcomed into a local family. He was a similar age to my older siblings and became a family friend, particularly of my sister Gladys. Sgt Joseph Turner, known by all as Joe, joined the RAF as soon as he was old enough, trained as a flight engineer crewman and was posted to Methwold. He was later transferred to Tuddenham in Suffolk. In October 1944 on a visit back to our home, he and Gladys went in to Kings Lynn to buy some Christmas presents for Joe‘s family so that he could send them off well in time for Christmas. The presents were packed and left with Gladys in readiness for him to post on his next visit. In a letter to his sister Kath on 11th October 1944 he wrote ―……I have been over to Methwold to Mrs Lawrence and she said that she had received the parcel from you and mother……..I will sign off wishing you all the best and look after yourself and remember me to mum and dad. Your loving brother, Joe” Tragically, just 20 days after writing that letter, at the age of just 19 years, he was killed when taking part in a daylight raid over Germany. Over their target, their Lancaster took a direct hit from enemy flak and the bomber exploded in mid-air. There were no survivors. They were all buried in Riechswald Forest War Cemetery in Germany. Some time later, I can only assume when Joe‘s mother died and her effects were being sorted through, a letter which my mother wrote to Mrs Turner in (we think) November 1944 was found and Kath gave the letter to Gladys. My mother wrote:

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“Thank you for your nice letter, also for the nice parcel. Jack and Brian were ever so pleased with them. I tell them they must take care of them. It will be nice for them to have them when they get older in remembrance of dear Joe. I am sure he thought a lot of them and I know they did Joe. He really was a nice boy. I always used to like the way he made himself at home here. If I was busy he would wash up or even clean the boys’ shoes for me. We were all ready to do anything for him too, for he was so thankful for everything we did……..Joe always used to tell us how happy he used to be with us and never went away for what he thanked us for our kindness and I know no one could have felt it worse than we have done.” It was a longer letter but towards the end, my mother wrote: ―I am so glad you enjoyed the eggs, I was so afraid they would all get broken. I don’t get as many as we have a lot of hens sitting. We have some lovely little ducks. …… Tell Kath I will write to her in a day or two. Well I must close thanking you for writing. I remain your friend. Mrs Lawrence” Joe was never forgotten. My sister Gladys corresponded regularly with Kath. They in fact became close friends. Sadly, both have now died. Regrettably, neither I nor Brian, the youngest of the 7 siblings, can remember what it was that Mrs Turner sent us but what is important is that we both remember Joe‘s part in our lives even though we were both young boys. ------

How I became a railway fireman working on steam trains

By Peter Evans

In January 1952, following demob from my National Service in the Army, I was in need of a job and a change of career. Friends had suggested applying to the Railway as they needed firemen for the steam trains and offered good money. I applied and attended an interview with the Engine Shed Foreman (the one with the bowler hat) at Kentish Town Engine Sheds. I produced my Army Discharge Medical Report which meant I did not have to see the Railway Doctor but I did have to pass the colour blindness test. The Foreman threw me an old ball of bits of wool of various colours and told me to sort them out into each colour. I passed and was offered a job first of all as an Engine Cleaner. To get to be a Fireman you had to go through the ‘Link‘ system starting as an Engine Cleaner then after a short period becoming a Past Cleaner, available if a Fireman was needed to work on the small pannier tank engines used in the local shunting yards. When working on these engines you were shown the basics of being a Fireman.

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On the days when you were not needed as a Fireman, it was back to engine cleaning. This job involved checking that all of the sand boxes were filled with dry sand used to stop wheel slip, making sure that all required tools were on board, these included a pickaxe, an iron spike to break up the clinker, a soft. long heavy iron rake and a box of detonators and red flag. All five paraffin lamps had to be filled and have their wicks trimmed. When this was all done, you had to climb onto the tender to check that no coal could fall off and if any very large lumps of coal were seen, these had to be broken up with the coal pick. Armed with handfuls of cotton waste mixed with oil and paraffin, the engines (and especially the mainline passenger engines) were cleaned ready for the bowler hatted Shed Foreman to check your work.

Next up in the ‗Link‘ you would hope to become a Relief Fireman. Here you would wait in the shed mess room with a driver waiting to see if you were required. If not required on that day, you were given the role of Disposal Fireman. As each engine returned to the shed from its day‘s journeys, the tender needed to be refilled with coal and water. For this, your driver would take the engine to the coal hopper where, as fireman, you had to control the flow of coal into the tender and advise the driver to slowly move the engine on till it was evenly topped up. Then on to the water pump, placing the leather spout into the tender‘s tank, filling it to the brim. On again to the ash pit, open the fire door, lift out three or four fire bars using iron tongs leaving a small fire in the back of the firebox always on the left-hand side. Why the left? I don‘t know! After this, the clinker was broken up using the iron spike and the remaining fire, clinker and ash was raked into the ash pan and from under the engine this was raked into the ash pit. Back on to the front of the engine, the round smoke box door was opened and with the fireman‘s shovel, all the small bits of coal, ash and soot were cleaned out. The driver would then take the engine onto the turntable and into one of the three sheds. Each time you were on ‗Disposal‘ you had a target to meet - five main line trains plus two small tank engines or eight smaller engines. As soon as the target was met you could book out and get off home. During my period on ‗Disposal‘ the drivers, as part of their job, would teach me how to move the engine on to the ash pit and the turntable so that I could cope in an emergency. Having satisfied the Shed Foreman, I was now made a Fireman and was allowed out! In the beginning it was only as a Fireman to take empty coaches into St. Pancras or from Cricklewood to Luton or St. Albans, then as a Relief Fireman on the crew of longer distance trains which meant getting on the footplate of Black5 — 4-6- 0 or Black8 — 2-8-0. These were not long trips, possibly to London Docks or Tilbury and to Old Oak Common for G.W.R. or Southern. On arrival, our engine would be uncoupled and the trucks or carriages taken on by other engines to their final destination. The Blacks 5 and 8 were larger engines that needed a good head of steam – up to 250lbs of pressure. When you opened the fire door, the hole through which the coal had to be shovelled was not much bigger than a household bucket, with the firebox being 11‘6‖ long by 6‘ wide. It took a while to get the knack of how to get the coal to the far end of the fire box and how to ‘read‘ the fire by its different colours so that you knew where the coal was needed. As well as feeding the fire with 31

coal, it was my job to check the glass water gauge and turn on the water injector, when needed, to keep the boiler filled. As well as dealing with coal and water, I also had to look out for signals on my side of the track, sometimes the driver would tell me when they were coming up even though he could not see them! As I became more proficient, I was tasked with doing longer trips, still as a Relief Fireman, goods trains to Kettering or Wellingborough being the most common. These trips were either to collect trucks loaded with oil pipes to be shipped out to the Middle East or coal trucks down from the North of England or Scotland. We would then connect up our engine and vacuum brakes to the trucks and carry out ‗Rule 55‘ which meant going to the Signal Box to get permission to leave the sidings as you were ready to go. It was usual to take your tea can with you to get a fresh brew and in return, as you left the sidings, you would stop by the signal box and pass over a few lumps of coal to keep the signalman warm in winter! To start these goods trains was a very skilled job. As you had many hundreds of tons in trucks joined by just one iron coupling, a very gentle pull was required to get under way. Going down a gradient, it was the Fireman‘s job to operate the tender's manually operated wind down brake system as needed. Promotion came quite quickly as a lot of engine drivers who had stayed on during the War now started to retire and many new staff were taken on. As an ‗experienced‘ fireman it was nice to have the chance for a ‗leg pull‘. New engine cleaners would be asked to go to the stores for a left- handed shovel or a box of vacuum dust to rub on the brake blocks. One I remember was to be asked to get a key for the smoke box door (the big round door on the front of the engine) and they used to give you a tiny watch key — they caught me with this one.

The hardest job I remember was going to Bedford to relieve a fireman on a Garret Engine. This had been sent over from South Africa to help the War effort. It had two boilers and a revolving tender to bring the coal down. As I remember, I never put my shovel down or stopped injecting water into the two boilers — boy was that hard work! I then moved on to commuter passenger trains. These were the standard B.R. 2-6-A Tank Engines from St. Pancras to Elstree, St. Albans, Harpenden, Luton and sometimes Bedford. They were small but very good engines and could pull six coaches. No engines on the L.M.S. lines had speed clocks but many drivers knew the distances between signals and those with pocket watches would calculate whether we were doing 50 or 60 miles per hour. As you pulled into St. Pancras it was nice to get a ‗Thank You‘ from the occasional passenger. Sometimes, if you had upset the driver in some way, you would very quickly find out. The driver would get his own back by dropping down a few gears to overwork the engine and thus use more coal than necessary. This was known as ‘flanking the engine‘ meaning that some of the small coal never reached the fire but was caught over the brick arch above the fire box and went out through the chimney — you soon learned not to upset the driver.

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Also, as a fireman, you had responsibility for the safety of others. If any of the trucks or coaches on your train were derailed, you had to carry out ‗Rule 105‘ meaning climbing down from the cab, running forward fifteen wooden sleepers from the front of the engine, placing a detonator onto the oncoming line, repeat after another fifteen sleepers and then once more and at that point stand on the track to wave your red flag at any oncoming train. It was the guard‘s job to do the same at the rear of the train. By the way, those detonators did make a loud bang! One memorable trip was on an Easter Bank Holiday. It was from Moorgate in the City of London to Southend-on-Sea. The station at Moorgate was underground, built long before the Tube system was established. The engine was a compound, quite large but old with a tender that was long and flat. We went from Kentish Town into this very old tunnel at Moorgate and hooked up to the coaches. It was most important that steam pressure was kept below 150 lbs. as if the engine did blow off, the soot and muck of the past 100 years or so would be brought down over the coaches. On we went to Kentish Town, Tufnell Park, Finsbury Park and the rest of north London to Barking, then non- stop to Southend. We spent the next few hours waiting and having breakfast cooked on my shovel which, because of all of the work it had had to do, was nice and shiny. Unfortunately there was no turntable at Southend so we had to return tender first. Being long, low and flat meant that all the coal dust from the tender blew off into our faces. When we got back to Kentish Town, we both looked like chimney sweeps but the overtime was most welcome. Next were the London fogs in the early 1950‘s. It was almost true that you could not see your hand in front of your face. One night, coming off a late shift, I was not sure where the hell I was. When a man opened his front door to put out his milk bottles, I called out "Where am I?" He said ―Ward Road". I had gone past my turning by two streets and I was on the wrong side of the road. It was incredible that some of the older drivers, even in the thickest fogs, would still know just where they were on the line by the different sounds made as the train passed under footbridges, through tunnels, along embankments, etc. They would also know when the next signal would be coming up even telling me when the ones on my side were near. Another time we were waiting at Bedford Station for our turn to take the train into St. Pancras. I was cooking breakfast in the traditional way when a lady came up and said ―Oh! What a wonderful smell‖. We recognized her; it was Lady Isobel Barnett from the TV show ‗What‘s My Line‘. We invited her onto the footplate and she joined us to have half a bacon sandwich. She said ―This is one meal I will never forget‖ She left me a ten bob note, enough for quite a few full breakfasts in those days. On a less happy note, an express train from Scotland to Euston crashed into the back of a passenger train waiting at Harrow & Wealdstone station then another express from Euston heading north ran into the crash site. We had to take our Steam Crane from the Kentish Town Sheds. It was an unforgettable scene. Sadly the rescue team could not get the crane to carry out the lift and I was not sorry to leave quite soon after our arrival. I quickly became aware that quite a few drivers had gardens or allotments backing on to our rail lines. If this was by design I do not know but if you were doing local

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work such as slow goods trains or off to the nearby shunting yards, your driver would say ―Ted or Jim or whoever was there‖ and a few large lumps of coal would accidentally fall off the footplate nearby. What I really enjoyed about my job was that each day was different. I could be on little engines working in shunting yards or getting coaches into sidings or to the cleaning yards. Every day I learned a bit more from others about how the railways worked. Each train had oil lamps on the front of the engine — two lights over each buffer for an express, one on top and one over the right buffer for a local passenger, one over the left buffer and one in the middle for a fast goods train and all five lamps for a Royal train etc. Over the years I got to know where the coal came from, how it burned, the size of the lumps etc. The Welsh Steam Coal was by far the best (and not because of my heritage) it burned slowly and gave out great heat. Next was Yorkshire and Northumberland, not big lumps. Derby Brights gave out good heat but came in small lumps which burned too quickly and meant hard work. I never had the privilege of working a train that needed to fill the tender with water by going over a water trough. These were in the middle of the track and it was the duty of the Fireman to lower the water scoop by hand into the trough which was about two miles long. If the train was doing 6o miles per hour, it could fill the tender with 2000 gallons of water in one and a half minutes. There was a gauge to tell you how much water you were picking up and if you failed to wind up the scoop quick enough, you could knock out the back end of the trough leaving no water for the next train. You were then in real trouble as these troughs were for long distance non- stop express trains for which I was too inexperienced. One day I was in the Mess room talking to a Past Fireman who was on the last steps of becoming a full-time engine driver. For any long journeys he would need to have an Inspector with him to make sure he knew the road. When the Inspector was satisfied that he knew every signal, crossing etc. he would sign the book giving the new engine driver authority to take any train over that route. On this day the Shed Boss came in and said they were in trouble and needed a crew to take an almost brand new 5-60-0 Britannia Class engine from St. Pancras to Manchester. He asked the new driver how far he knew the road. ―As far as Leicester‖ he replied. "Right" said the Boss, a relief crew will take over from you there, the engine is ready to go and you can take this young chap (me) as your fireman. We got ourselves to St. Pancras, hooked up to the coaches and set off. We did not say much to each other as we were both a bit nervous but it all went well, we arrived on time and the relief crew was there ready to take over — the relief fireman was about twice my age. As a note of interest, St. Pancras Station was built in the rounded shape of an egg to form an unsupported arch. The top half of the egg contained the main line tracks and station buildings while the lower half also had railway tracks to carry goods trains. Before the War, trains carrying fruit, vegetables, milk and other goods destined for the London Markets used these lower tracks in the tunnels in the bottom of the egg. I also learned that a Fireman on a trip from London to Manchester or Leeds would have to shovel up to 5 tons of coal into the firebox during the four hour journey. That‘s the end of my story of life as a Fireman on the last of the Steam Trains in regular service on British Railways.

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From Tom Derbyshire

Ferrari F1 team fired their entire pit crew yesterday.

From Tom Derbyshire

This announcement followed Ferrari's decision to take advantage of the British government's 'Work for your Dole' scheme and employ some Liverpudlian youngsters. The decision to hire them was brought about by a recent documentary on how unemployed youths from Toxteth were able to remove a set of wheels in less than 6 seconds without proper equipment, whereas Ferrari's existing crew could only do it in 8 seconds with millions of pounds worth of high tech equipment. It was thought to be an excellent, bold move by the Ferrari management team as most races are won and lost in the pits, giving Ferrari an advantage over every other team. However, Ferrari got more than they bargained for. At the crew's first practice session, not only was the scouse pit crew able to change all four wheels in under 6 seconds but, within 12 seconds, they had re-sprayed, re- badged and sold the car to the McLaren team for 8 cases of Stella, a bag of weed and some photos of Lewis Hamilton's bird in the shower.

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It Was In the Stars

(Our pre-lockdown break, by Ian Burton)

On 25th February I became 70 years old, and overnight went from being in good health to becoming ―vulnerable‖! To celebrate (my reaching 70 that is), Sue had arranged for us to spend a few days on the Isla de la Palma. La Palma, one of the smallest of the Canary Islands, lacks the glistening beaches and night life of the larger Islands, but it has great natural beauty. In the north, the immense volcanic crater ―Caldera de Taburiente‖ is one of the largest in the world and, having a constant supply of water, it contains waterfalls and gushing streams. High up on the hillsides dense two-million year old laurel forests grow. The south of the Island also shows its volcanic past with hills pitted with volcanic craters and mini deserts.

Inside Caldera de Taburiente High on the hillside

On the day of my birthday, having taken one of the few direct flights from the UK to La Palma, we landed safely, collected our hire car and drove the short distance to the Parador near Santa Cruz where we would stay for the next few nights. Why did Sue take me to a quiet, small island for a special birthday treat? The answer is that I have long had an interest in astronomy and Sue had booked us a tour around the world class observatory on the top of Roquede los Muchachos and also a ―stargazing night‖. The Observatory. You might wonder why build an Observatory far into the Atlantic? The answer is that La Palma provides one of the three best places in the world for observing the stars. Its location means that for most days of the year the trade wind blows from the North East reaching the island after travelling more than 600 miles over the ocean. When it reaches the island, the air is forced upwards and the clouds condense well below the Observatory, trapping much of any dust and pollution within them. In addition, as the

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air passes over the Observatory it does so very smoothly with very few ―ripples‖ all of which makes for excellent observing. On the morning of the observatory tour we set off early to give us plenty of time to cover the 32 miles from our hotel. I wanted plenty of time as the narrow road climbed nearly 8000ft to the peak and for much of the way the route contained a hairpin bend every few hundred yards. When we reached the top I felt a little disorientated and I‘m not sure if that was due to the thin air or the constant twisting and turning of the drive up. Perhaps it was a combination of both those factors.

Telescopes of The Observatory – High above the clouds at nearly 8000ft. There are 16 different telescopes, many observing in the visible spectrum, others observing infra-redor Gamma Rays. Tour groups are given a brief overview of the site and the telescopes and then taken to see one telescope in detail. As our group contained several English speakers, we were taken to see the Isaac Newton Telescope. The decision to build the Isaac Newton telescope was made in 1946, but astronomers could not agree on the design so construction at Herstmonceux Castle did not start until 1965 and observing began in 1968. Sussex is not an ideal location for observing the night sky. For the first 16 months clouds prevented any observing at all for 60% of nights, and only 10% were completely clear. As a result, in May 1979 it was agreed to move the telescope to La Palma. Since it began operation the Isaac Newton Telescope has made a vast number of observations. It produced the 37

first optical observation of a gamma ray burst proving that the sources were very distant. It measured the spin of an asteroid proving that it was rotating faster by one millisecond every year. It now observes other galaxies and has discovered evidence that there may exist galaxies made entirely of dark matter.

The Isaac Newton Telescope showing the mirror (left) (covered during daylight hours) and (right) the wide field camera located at the prime focus of the mirror. The telescope now looks its age but is still doing useful work. With the advent of the Internet, much of the observing is done remotely so universities etc. bid for time and the telescope is controlled by them, and observations transmitted directly to them. The guide was very good at explaining the work of the observatory, and knowledgeable about the observations made (although she and I agreed we could not understand how quantum entanglement made any sense – if any Probus member can help, please get in touch!) An odd story involved the inauguration of the observatory in June 1985. The ceremony was attended by several heads of state, including our own Queen Elizabeth II. So as not to offend anyone, four helicopter landing pads were built so that all could be received at the same time. Following that occasion, only one has ever been used. The Major Atmospheric Gamma Ray Imaging Cherenkov Telescope (MAGIC) looks for 38

Gamma Rays from high energy sources such a Black Holes, Supernova and Gamma Ray bursts. There are two MAGIC telescopes, each is 55ft wide and made up from a series of mirrors arranged to form a parabolic reflector. During the day these must be pointed away from the sun because sunlight reflected onto the camera would destroy it in seconds and also set ablaze the nearby undergrowth. It is said, however, that when the reflector was being constructed two of the engineers used two mirror segments to heat a chilli con carne for their lunch. Stargazing. One evening Sue and I drove roughly halfway back up the mountain to join a group for stargazing. The organiser had a powerful amateur telescope and we had a magical evening with the clouds below us and a brilliant clear sky above. The milky way was clearly visible, and we took turns looking at the moon, planets and a nearby galaxy through the telescope. While the organiser was speaking, I spent my time listening and gazing up at the night sky. The whole experience was worth the stiff neck the day after. The Journey Home While we were in La Palma we had heard that a hotel on the neighbouring island of Tenerife had been ―locked down‖ due to corona virus, so we were very happy to see the ‗plane when it arrived to take us home. Both Sue & I enjoyed our stay on the island very much and we hope to return one day to walk some of the many trails and explore more of the island. ------

Street party

By Kathy Cunningham

I thoroughly enjoyed watching the television footage showing how the British public celebrated VE day 75 years ago and my thoughts went back to a street party I took part in several years ago. The year was 1981 and the world was due to celebrate a great occasion – the marriage of Charles, Prince of Wales to Lady Diana Spencer on Wednesday the 29th July 1981. At that time Andy, myself and two young sons aged 5 and 2 were living in Maynard Road, Hemel Hempstead a dead end road within walking distance of Marlowes. It all began with a letter put through our letterbox asking if we would we be interested in organising a street party to celebrate the royal wedding. From there a committee was formed, committee members taking responsibility for organising bunting, music, food and entertainment. Andy ended up with the job of making sure things went smoothly and organising the games for the children. I don‘t remember what games they played, but my eldest son does recall having to, and I quote, ―cut a paper fish out of newspaper and had to flap a paper at it to race the fish across the road‖. I wonder what today‘s children would make of that. Don‘t know how Andy got that job. As a teacher was it thought he had the 39

advantage of dealing with children, or because of his commanding voice and height? Celebration day arrived. Much to our relief it was dry and sunny. The entrance to our road was blocked; bunting put up, music organised and numerous paste tables and chairs which seemed to magically appear from various households, were placed in a long line down the centre of the road. Music played, games played, food eaten and at the end, the children were given a white mug with a picture of the couple and the date on it. Looking back I realise how good it was that people got together, even if for a short period, instead of remaining in their own bubble. Fast forward to Friday 8th May 2020. Plans to mark the 75th anniversary of VE Day had been made months in advance. The date of the Bank Holiday had even been changed. Andy and I now live in Bartel close but despite restrictions the residents got together and we had our street party. There was bunting and music, but no paste table and chairs lined up in the centre of the road. Instead individual households placed tables and chairs in their front gardens. Our table was laden with scones, clotted cream, strawberry jam, chocolate cake and English strawberries. Liquid refreshment was catered for by a bottle of wine and bubbly. Needless to say by the end of the day everything had been consumed and drunk. During the course of the afternoon people walked round the close, keeping to social distancing, meeting and talking to neighbours whom they had perhaps never seen, or merely passed with a cursory ―hello‖, ―good morning/afternoon‖, or some comment on the weather. Again I got the same feeling as way back in 1981, that it is good for communities to get together not only to celebrate a special occasion but because it is a good thing to do. Our VE Day celebration was enjoyed so much that it is hoped another one can be held at the end of June, but this time not to celebrate anything in particular, but just to get together again. ------

Brighton and Hove Motor Manufacturing Industry Isetta Great Britain Report by John Blackwell

Provided by Tom Derbyshire via a friend who is a member of a Brighton Club.

January's evening meeting welcomed Duncan Cameron author and 1950s car enthusiast. Following the end of WWII. motoring for the general public was almost non-existent due to cars being mainly manufactured for the export market, petrol rationing, three gallons per month until 1950. and purchase tax for new cars at 66%. However for motorcycles, defined as a vehicle with less than four wheels (motorcycle and sidecar) and weighing less than eight hundredweight, purchase tax was only 25%. An opportunity was seen by those who had factories equipped for war production to venture into the microcar market of three wheeled vehicles, the most well known, among many, (many of which also failed) was the Bond Minicar in 1949 and the Reliant Regal in 1951. Abroad the ‗Bubble Car' so called because of its egg shape and bubble like windows, made of Plexiglas, appeared as the Messerschmitt

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Kabincnroller with its obvious aircraft cockpit appearance in 1955. The second element in the Bubble Car concept was the bonnet less front end. Italian Renzo Rivolta inherited the Isothermo Company in the 1940's, a refrigerator manufacturing company, but he only wanted to make cars and set his designers to work. They produced a small car with a forward opening door to which was attached a swivelling steering column, the Isetta, (an Italian diminutive meaning little iso) in 1953. Not a success in Italy it sold well in France, Belgium, Spain, Brazil, Argentina and Germany. But Rivolta wanted to make supercars (which he eventually did) and sold the manufacturing rights to BMW in 1954 who, following the end of the war, had found little demand for luxury cars. They re-engineered the car with improvements to the suspension and steering and equipped it with a purpose built 247cc., later 297cc. air cooled four stroke engine. The car was very popular in England and as BMW also did not want to make small cars they looked for a British concessionaire. For an unknown reason Dunsfold Tools of Brighton fitted the bill and became Isetta of Great Britain in 1956. They took over part of the locomotive works which had closed in March I957 and six weeks later, after setting up an assembly line, designed by BMW, started production with a workforce of200 mainly ex loco works employees. The first order was 1.000 vehicles for Canada. All parts had to be brought in and assembled cars sent away by rail as there was no road access to the works. Every week on a Saturday, body work pressings, components and engines arrived by train from Bavaria sufficient for 250 cars. Later some British components were used e g. Lucas headlamps. Twice a day, Monday to Friday, eight flat bed wagons each loaded with three cars left for a London goods yard, after returning eight empty wagons. Left and right hand drive versions with 3 or 4 wheel configuration were marketed, the 3 wheel being the most popular in the UK due to purchase tax advantage. The advertised cruising (top) speed was 50mph with petrol consumption of 70mpg Production of lsetta's had peaked between 1956 and 1954 following the Suez crisis in October 1956. when petrol rationing was reintroduced, but the launch of the Austin Mini in 1959 and the opening of the Preston bypass in 1958. foreshadowing the motorways to come, led to the closure of Isetta GB in 1961 According to a blue plaque near Isetta Square in Brighton a total of some 30.000 were produced at the nearby former loco works site. BMW took over the remaining components and moved to part of the Fryco soft drinks factory on the north side of Victoria Road Portslade until closure in 1964. Coincidentally Fryco was nearly opposite the current BMW dealership. Microcars however soldiered on with Reliant taking over Bond and finishing production in 2001: - we all remember Del Boys- Robin. An excellent presentation by the author of British Microcars 1947-2001Sliire Publications 2018 which was much appreciated by an attentive audience. / would be interested to know which part of Brighton works was used by Isetta GB. The Isetta Owners' club from a photographic survey in 2002 seems to assume it was in the lower goods yard but this is incorrect as there was no rail connection between there and the works and old photos show completed cars leaving the works. Postscript Following questions. Nick Kelly former Bond Minicar driver recalled that the first non official cars to use the Preston By-pass. were three Bond Minicars. The following description of the event comes from Wikipedia. In a publicity stunt for Sharp's, (manufacturer of the Minicar) three Bond Minicar Mark I s. two Saloon Coupes and a Tourer. were the first cars to drive along Britain‘s first motorway, the Preston By-pass. when it opened on the morning of 5 December

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1958. The Sales Department thought it would be a good idea for Bonds to be the first m the line-up when the TV cameras recorded the opening. The Bonds were actually not the first to arrive as an Austin Healey Sprite had already beaten them to it. However, after a bit of negotiating and no doubt some financial recompense, the Sprite owner obligingly moved over and the Bonds lined up asplanned! The idea was for the first and third cars fitted with only 197cc engine to hold up the traffic by blocking both lanes (the Preston By-pass was only a dual carriageway when it was first opened) whilst the second car, a Tourer fitted with one of the new 247cc engines would pull out, overtake the first car and speed off into the lead, ready to be photographed by the BBC. But the plan back-fired, because the Bond beat the camera crew to the bridge where the shot was to take place! Consequently, the evening news only showed the second and third Bonds amongst the traffic on the opening day ------

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