Winter

I had four pieces of encouragement over Christmas – and how I need a bit of encouragement sometimes! I had a message from one of my old pupils saying she had fond memories of being in my form, a nice e card from Liz who was once helped by one of my sermons at West Row, an appreciative email about my website from a pastor in Ohio, USA (Something of a rarity!) and the attendance at our Christmas Day service of three of my old cricketing buddies.

January began with a gouty foot – a harbinger of several short gouty outbreaks throughout the year. Every joint is vulnerable!

My nephew Isaac treated me to a rare trip to the cinema to watch the second of a trilogy on the Hobbit. I would not recommend the experience. The book is full of whimsy – the film devoted to violence – one gory battle after another all accompanied by ear shattering and mind numbing music. The best thing about the evening was a kiss from my sister-in-law Sandra and niece Ruth.

I was pleased to attend my boyhood friend, Henry Pawsey’s, 70th birthday party at Rede Plough. Of all the guests I suppose I was the one who knew him the longest. Henry gave a good speech thanking God for all that was past and praising him for all that is to come. The best is yet to come! He could remember me going to his house after school when I was seven or eight to read his comics.

I regularly visit my old colleague and dear friend Dorothy Haylock. She often makes me laugh over her experiences – few of them life affirming! Such was the case when she phoned the income tax help line. An automated voice answered the phone with, “Please state your problem simply. For example, ‘I have had a baby.’” I told Dorothy, somewhat passed her best for conceiving babies, that she should have replied, “I have diarrhoea “ and waited to see what reaction she got.

In mid January I had a great day’s bird watching with Richard and Carolyn Plowman at Abberton Reservoir and the Fingringhoe Reserve. There was a male and female smew on the reservoir and barn owl, marsh harriers and bar tailed godwit on the reserve.

My old Geography teacher, Peter Smeltzer, died in January aged 94. He has a lot to answer for because without him lobbying for me to study his subject at A level my life would have been very different. Eventually I taught with him at King Edward Sixth Grammar School. He gave his assistant teachers a great deal of freedom. He never interfered. It was a policy I adopted when I became a Head of Department. It is not a policy approved of today.

When visiting Peter Webb at Stanstead in February he reminisced about one, Sooty Theobald. I asked him why he was called Sooty. Peter said it was because he was always saying, ‘Cud a Soot!” I can remember my old friend Ivy Boreham using this expression in rather a plaintive way, as did her son, but it is rarely heard today – nor can I find it on the internet!

In February I finished a series of expositions on Job for my website. It was hard work dealing with verse after verse of complaints on Job’s part and the feeble attempts on the part of his ‘comforters’ to explain why he suffered so much. In the end God answered Job by saying, “Look, you have to accept I know best” – which is not an altogether satisfying response. I am now working through Exodus.

The weather was so good in February – mild and dry – that I began to tidy up my garden. I managed to weed one of the borders.

In the winter I began to watch a program on country music on Ireland West TV. It features contemporary stars and golden oldies like Joe Dolan and Jim Reeves - found by delving in the ‘vinyl vaults.’

Spring.

What a lovely spring we had. I used to revel in this time of the year on my long walks. However, the spring still gives me some ecstatic moments. One afternoon in early April, after visiting Jesse Underwood in Glemsford, I took the scenic route home via Hawkedon. The blackthorn was out producing marvellous frothy billows in the valley bottoms. On April 13th I preached at Rattlesden. The weather was gorgeous without a cloud in the sky. The countryside was so beautiful I was drunk with joy. There was an amazing cherry tree in blossom in the chapel car park. Travelling home in the evening there was a delicious sunset in vary shades of pink.

I did manage a short walk with my good friends John and Marion Skull in May through Freston wood to lower Wherstead on the Orwell Estuary. Woods are fabulous places in late spring. There were masses of blue bells, ransoms (wild garlic), yellow archangel and lilac wood speedwell. Along the little river flowing through the wood were patches of cuckoo flower.

In May I presided over our last ladies meeting. Ron and Margaret Moody moved into Bury St Edmunds and decided to worship elsewhere. Both made a big contribution to our church and are sorely missed. Margaret was the secretary of the ladies’ meeting and in the absence of a successor there will be no more such meetings.

We have maintained our prayer meetings. Sometimes I manage to cheer the heart of my faithful brother, Peter Chaffey. I always know when he has been uplifted because he then prays with joy and rare eloquence. I am glad when this happens because Peter has not had an easy year. I am particularly glad because when my father was alive and at his worst with Parkinson’s disease Peter always took the trouble to speak to him and invariably made him laugh.

In April my friend Tommy Bamber lost his wife, Heather. I was very sad for him. The funeral service was a fitting tribute to Heather and particularly her role as a caring and supportive teacher to both pupils and colleagues. The huge turnout of colleagues, friends and ex-pupils was a huge comfort to Tommy. He was shown much sympathy and great affection. It indicated how important funeral services are – even ones that are not Christian. When we resumed bird watching together Tom said he was at peace over Heather’s death. In my experience when you have done all you can for a loved one in life it helps you to be at peace when they die. It helps even more if your belief in the afterlife is strong.

On May 3rd I watched my first cricket match of the season. Brockley Seconds played Lakenheath Seconds. I spent most of the game listening to tall stories. First of all I listened to Dick Bond, once a fearsome Lakenheath fast bowler, now a veteran with rheumatic knees. He said he could remember bowling a ball at Brockley which bounced once and flew over the boundary for six byes. I can never remember a ball getting above waist height during my years as an opening batsman and wicketkeeper. I can recall John Pettitt coming out to bat against Lakenheath and being told by my brother Peter who was at the other end, “Plenty of time, John.” He replied, “The time’s there, Peter.” The first ball he received hit him on the ankle. When he had recovered sufficiently to take guard again he retreated two paces to square leg, shut his eyes and made a huge swipe being bowled middle stump. Rarely have I seen a Brockley batsmen so relieved to be out.

Kenny Boreham had a tale about Laurie Bugg who once lived in Brockley but is now deceased. He was a market stall holder whose widow wanted, ‘Oh what a lovely bunch of coconuts’ played at his funeral. I objected! Anyway, Kenny recalled the time he nearly died of nicotine poisoning. He covered himself with nicotine patches and still smoked twenty a day!! I should delegate the writing of this letter to Kenny as I am sure it would be more entertaining than I can make it.

In May I saw David Aldous, an old pupil of the grammar school, who reminded me of one, Bliss who failed all his O levels except Geography for which he got a grade 1. As a teacher it ranks as my greatest triumph.

Summer

The first day of summer a thrush was singing its heart out at the very top of the tall spruce that stands in my garden. Higher still, in the light blue sky, the swifts were circling.

In early June I went to London to visit my Aunty Olive and her son, Andrew. I went to the Tapas Bar at Richmond Bridge for lunch only to find it had changed hands and was called, ‘Bills’ – not a very encouraging appellation. But I went in and found ‘Bills’ full of diners and had the best fish pie I have ever tasted. I did my usual walk along the Thames and was intrigued by the magpies mimicking the green parakeets. Andrew and Muriel were in fine form and kept me on my toes.

I spent my holiday as usual in North Norfolk. I drove there in torrential rain. Unfortunately my north, north east route followed a cold front and there was no escaping the downpour for miles. There were two highlights to my trip. I saw six spoonbills just outside a hide at Cley. While eating my lunch in the Wiveton Bell I engaged in some long distance flirting with a sweet young thing who responded with one of the loveliest smiles I have ever received. She was all of one year old. She hasn’t reached the age of discernment yet – but if she can replicate that smile in later life she will never be short of admirers.

In June my brother Paul noticed a large crack in the trunk of the venerable beech tree that towered above our chapel. This set in train a series of inspections and quotations for its felling.

Every other Friday I visit my old colleague Dorothy Haylock. We are usually joined by the Tyers brothers – John and Geoff. For some reason we got round to talking about piles. Geoff could remember using a cream called ‘Anasol’. He thought the name would deter anyone from asking for it at Boots the chemist – especially anyone with a speech impediment. Dorothy would have trouble getting beyond: “Anas ......anas ......anas.”

I was pleased to be reunited with two former pupils of Debenham while watching Brockley play Eye. Ross Stannard and Jonathan Gaunt played for Eye. I can remember introducing Jonathan to cricket. He failed to impress getting bowled for a duck. He took a ‘selfie’ of the two of us standing arm in arm for his sister, Rebecca, whom I also taught.

In August old Tommy Bamber and I were pleased to see a redstart on Cavenham Heath and five black winged stilts in a big puddle on the edge of field full of free range pigs. What joy!

While Kenny Boreham and I were reminiscing at the cricket he told me a story about old Mr Garwood, known as Caddy. He kept the village post office. Caddy was an idiosyncratic post master to say the least. You knocked on his door and waited. When he at length appeared you said what you wanted and waited outside until he returned with your order. It could be raining cats and dogs – you still waited outside. He was a disagreeable old fellow. Eventually Caddy was admitted to hospital. He hadn’t many admirers so his visitors were few. For reasons best known to himself Ken Boreham’s father, Cecil, did at length pay Caddy a visit. He was finishing his tea when Cecil arrived. Caddy we that pleased to see him. “I’m glad to see you, Cecil – glad to see you. I’d like to give you something. But I h’aint got much in here to give you. ....... Have a spunful of sugar!” That tickled Cecil and it is a story I have no doubt he repeated many times. It made Ken and I laugh as we shared it together – “Have a spoonful of sugar!”

I paid my last visit to Surbiton to see my brother Peter and his wife, Olive, before their move to Dovercourt in Essex. In the afternoon we went to Kingston and walked a short distance along the Hogsmill Brook to the Thames. This little river flows in a concrete channel through the heart of Kingston. Imagine my surprise and delight when I saw a grey wagtail and kingfisher

In August I had a card from an admirer saying: ‘The best teachers teach from the heart and not from the book’ to which was appended in well known hand writing: ‘I had a Geography teacher like this.’

Autumn

I was shocked and sorry to learn a day before a check up that my dentist, Mr Peter Clinton, had committed suicide. He was very friendly and obliging. We often chatted about our mutual interest in bird watching. He was held in high esteem as the attendance at his thanksgiving service confirmed.

For six months of the year I give a Bible study to a house group in Barton Mills. Jill and Arthur Rutterford always invite me for a meal before the house group. On Sept 4th Hannah, Arthur and Jill’s daughter, was present with her baby boy, Isaac. I was given him to hold for a little while and he was as good as gold. Later Mary arrived and started to tell Jill abut stuffing a marrow. For some reason little Isaac found Mary’s voice hilarious. Every time the words ‘stuffing a marrow’ were uttered Isaac burst into gurgles of laughter. He laughed and laughed and soon we were all laughing. Mary said, somewhat plaintively, “I don’t usually make people laugh.”

September 20th was the big day for my nephew Isaac and Stephanie. They were married at Brockley Chapel. I conducted the ceremony – the first wedding at which I have officiated. It made a pleasant change from the numerous funerals I have taken in recent years. I was given moral support by a very warm hearted, friendly registrar. All went well. The wedding reception took place in a marquee on the Brockley Cricket Ground. It was just a pity the weather was so miserable. I enjoyed the speeches. Isaac rose to the challenge in the best tradition of the Reed family. Two best men joined forces to make a very witty speech although, perhaps, there were too many references to Isaac’s weak bladder. (One of the few things Isaac and I have in common!) As for the bride’s father, for some inexplicable reason, he warmly welcomed Isaac as his son in law. Stephanie and her family put a lot of effort into the wedding. I enjoyed giving my great nieces a hug! What long suffering young ladies they are!

Day dreaming in the dark on my way home from chapel I hit some newly installed concrete curbing on a bend and split two tyres and wrecked a wheel. I drove the remaining mile and a half home on two flat tyres – a hairy experience. Repairs cost me £500. Actually these lapses are rather worrying.

In early October Urban Forestry finally felled the great beech tree at the chapel. It took a mighty crane – nearly twice as high as the tree – and four men working flat out for three days to accomplish the task. It cost nearly £5000. However, Urban Forestry made a very good job of the work and left everything in excellent order. I shall never forget the sight of the huge chunks of beech wood that covered the chapel car park. There must have been nearly 20 tons of it. Richard Plowman counted the rings on the surface of the stump and they totalled 286 making it 14 years older than the chapel.

Later in the month I travelled to Hastings to spend a few days with my brother, Paul, and his wife, Ruth. Once again I had to brave truly appalling travel conditions. It must have been the murkiest day of the year – low thick cloud, mist, drizzle and spray. I could hardly read the road signs. I had a nice time in Hastings – bird watching with my brother. We also met up with old friends Ian and Marion Brown at Scotney Castle and enjoyed a bit of reminiscing. I also enjoyed an evening visit to see my nephew Michael and his children. Michael was cooking macaroni cheese for high tea with some help from Gracie. I suggested they were a bit short of vegetables but to the relief of the girls Michael thought they could get away with it as Mummy was not there!

At our quarterly church business meeting there were only four of us in attendance. The long, slow, inexorable decline in the church is one of the great sadness’s of my life.

To end on a happier note: in November my number one favourite pupil contacted me and suggested we meet up for a walk round the Abbey Gardens in Bury St Edmunds and then have coffee together. What a pleasure it was to see X again after nearly 20 years. She was little changed and as affectionate as ever. I was cheered by the fact that she didn’t mind walking round with her old and increasingly decrepit teacher.

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