"For the Times they are a Changing"

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Back here,

I mentioned how I had three great boxes (IKEA Jean tells me)

of old family photographs to wade through.

Just look what I found.

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Bernards Great Grandma.

Now a few of you said, "please show us more", so here are a few of

some of the more interesting ones.

I promise not to inflict on you, dozens of pictures of me building

sandcastles at Weston-super-Mare,

nor lots of little babies,

or boys in school caps!

The lady above cannot be accurately identified,

but is very probably the same as the one below.

This lady (below) IS my Great Grandmother,

on my Fathers side.

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Thankfully my Aunty had written on the back.

Here she is again with our Aunty Gladys aged eight.

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And with interesting little comments.

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"All her lovely dresses & bonnets she used to

make herself."

Now this one below has to be my all time favourite.

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Just look at that vintage pram.

And who is it, and who is in the pram?

Aunty G. tells us all.

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Dated - July 1905.

Well the brother in the pram is not my father,

as he was not around in 1905.

It would have been David or Norman,

my fathers elder brothers.

I need to dig much deeper now to get all the dates of

Birthdays and tie this all up.

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This is that 'thoughtful' Gladys as a young lady,

who thankfully provided

all this useful information to make what are just photographs,

turn into our family history.

Thanks Aunty G.

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Yesterdays Birthday Boy

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Here's a post which is bound to upset my brother Adrian!

Not keen on cats you see.

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But it can't be helped because yesterday was Wesley's Birthday.

Fifteen years ago these two little 'terrors' arrived

to liven up Hazel's previously peaceful existence.

'Pride & Prejudice' was on the telly at the time,

and I named them 'Lizzie' and 'Darcy'.

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However, I wasn't very happy with the name Darcy,

so I needed to think of something new.

I thought of Rupert, but he didn't really fit the part.

I though of Compo, from Last of the Summer Wine,

but he didn't seem scruffy enough!

So he ended up with Wesley, the old car enthusiast,

from the same series.

Here is is yesterday, lazing around in the sun,

with a tummy full of steak mince!

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Ginger cats sleep anywhere, any table, any chair,

Top of piano, window ledge,

In the middle, on the edge.

His sister Lizzie, died a couple of years ago,

we think, from a heart attack.

I had them at seven weeks old and Hazel actually

didn't seem to mind them all that much.

Here is Wes. pushing his luck,

with a four year old Hazel.

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And here they are fifteen years on,

still the best of friends.

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I posted up a similar one to this earlier,

with Wes. giving Hazel a good licking.

This is the first time however,

I have managed to catch them doing a 'double act'!

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In Search of Snowdrops.

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As some of you noticed,

I repeated this year my 'Snowdrop post'

from Great Missenden.

So on a sunny Tuesday, a couple of weeks ago,

I went off in search of a different location.

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I stopped off for a picnic at the village of Sydenham.

It is on the way back from Thame market so I didn't go too far out of my way.

Now Sydenham is not in Buckinghamshire,

but just over the border into Oxfordshire.

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It is a very attractive village, having a good selection of timber framed,

brick, flint and wychert (a clay-like material)

cottages under thatch and old tiled roofs.

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This one is dated 1797.

I was wondering how many times it had been re-thatched

in those 214 years?

Further down by the little stream I found a few snowdrops.

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Probably planted by the residents.

The name 'Sydenham' by the way,

means 'at the wide hamm or meadow'.

And here's a few in some-ones garden.

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One of my 'better' photos I thought?

And then on over to the flint and stone St. Mary's Church

with its oak shingled spire.

This is much older than those cottages above,

as it dates back to the 13th century.

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Now when I got home I read up on the village and the Church.

I seem to have done things the wrong way round here,

because I read that the Church door had a very unusual keyhole.

It was cut out from an old sundial.

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I remembered reading about this in one of my books on clocks.

Did I take photo? No!

Do you think I can find that picture in my clock books? No!

I must remind myself to read up on a place

before setting out.

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Anyway, the Church was home to a sweet little organ.

One manual, four stops and two candle holders!

Years ago it would have been hand pumped

by a boy around the back.

He even had his own little seat (picture right),

so he could take a rest between hymns.

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And, as in all true English villages.....

The Pub. Right next to the Church.

And........

right next to the Pub was.....

the

Village Information Centre.

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Housed in the now defunct telephone box!

(Shame I parked the car in the wrong place)

and

shame about the keyhole photo - if I come across it,

I'll post it up.

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Birthday Wishes

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"Grrrrracky Hirthday DD"

See, I hadn't forgotten.

Have a wonderful day Dumpling.

cheers....Bernard {{hugs}}.

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Looking on the 'Positive' Side.

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My sister has been custodian of the ‘family-photo archives’

since dear old Dad left us in 1999.

Being eleven years younger than I,

she was at a loss to identify many of the relatives and friends in the old photographs.

So, they have been delivered to ‘your truly’ for an identity check!

Not a dozen or so.

Not a hundred or so in a shoebox.

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But three great big boxes.

One box contains our Grandfathers photos, the second, Fathers

and the third a load of photographs rescued from our father’s sister, our aunty Gladys.

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This is going to take me months and months I can see, but it is a ‘labour of love’ and I am grateful that these were saved for future generations.

I wouldn’t mind betting there are going to be many, many sepia faces of tightly laced great-aunties that I do not recognise either.

My paternal Grandfather was a chemist and a photographer. I still have one of his old cameras. My Father was also a keen amateur and I still have one of his old cameras. So you see there are in addition to these old prints, hundreds and hundreds of negatives.

I did a blog way back in March 2009 about the old cameras.

In order to view and maybe print from these, I have lashed out on a new scanner.

My Canon printer/scanner only does positive copies, but this Hewlett Packard model has carriers for slides and negatives, in both colour and B&W in 35mm, and many other larger formats.

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So this week I have been scanning and viewing

some of my pictures from over fifty years ago.

There was Grandfather in his chemists shop.

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There was my Mother, astride a pony, on holiday in Devon. - 1935

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Shock and horror! Mom and Dad in drag? - 1937

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Bernard’s bare bum! - 1943

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And there I was in 1961 on holiday with my first (serious) girlfriend.

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And no, - it didn’t last.

But at least the negatives, photographs and the memories do.

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Strange Verse and Wonky Stones.

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The year rolls round and steals away

The breath that first it gave;

Whate’er we do, where’re we be

We’re travelling to the grave.

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Sorry to start off like this, but...

Recently I had two readers who were fascinated by churchyards

and especially those with 'wonky' headstones!

There are plenty around these parts...

.....but not wanting to be too morbid,

I thought I could liven things up a bit

with some verse.

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Dorchester - Buckinghamshire

Here lies the body of Meredith Morgan,

Who blew the bellows of our old church organ.

No reflection on him for rude speech could be cast,

Yet he gave our organist many a blast.

No puffer was he, but a very good blower,

He could fill double ‘G’, but now lies a note lower.

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Floor of Dorchester Abbey

No more upon the mat will he play with pussy cat.

No more between his teeth he’ll squeeze her tail;

No more he’ll rub her nose against the iron bar,

For little brother Tommy’s kicked the pail!

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Cookham - Berkshire

We knew he was departing by the colour of his breath.

We knew the flower was nipping in the bud,

And the Doctor said the only means of saving him from death,

Was to stop the circulation of his blood.

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Ilmer - Buckinghamshire

Oh he’s gone for ever more has our darling blue-haired boy,

We shall never see our darling any more;

Like a dream he passed away, on the 93rd of May,

For he never died so suddenly before.

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Turville - Near Henley

I shall ne’er forget the morning that his spirit passed away;

It was early, about 10 o’clock at night;

The hens were sweetly singing, the ducks were making hay,

And the sun and moon were shining dark and bright.

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Turville's Windmill

And now he’s "gone before", at the age of 94,

There was nothing in this world his life could save;

So I’m going to the brick-field to fulfil his last request,

That’s to plant a bunch of turnips on his grave!

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Lady Astor's pet graves at Cliveden

PS - I just thought I should make it clear;

this is a bit of a joke,

those verses are not on the stones.

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"Old Father Thames keeps Rolling Along"

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On Saturday Jan enquired about the Thames.

“I find it amazing that there are houses so close to the river.

Is the river so well controlled then, that it never floods?”.

Well it does flood Jan, but not as much these days as it used to.

We now have quite a few ‘Flood relief schemes’ in place.

Houses, large and small still are built right alongside the water's edge.

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As here at Marlow. (photo Graham Horn)

As an aside, I took those 'Sunset' photos of Marlow Bridge,

from that jetty on the left - where that man is standing.

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Small houses with long gardens down to the river.

Before the flood relief schemes, thing were different.

This was at Boulters Lock in 1903.

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I was amused to see that fellow fishing.

Obviously keen!

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Maidenhead 1928.

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Cock Marsh flood plain, from Winter Hill.

Here at Bourne End we have Cock Marsh which would be flooded first before the houses on this side of the river.

They are not supposed to build homes on flood plains but in some parts of the country this has been ignored. (as far as I know, not along the Thames).

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Looking back towards Winter Hill,

you can see the height of the marsh is only just above river level.

Below is a Stanley Spencer painting of Cookham marsh,

which when flooded can be crossed by the causeway shown below.

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The old river itself is usually quite tame.

It ambles for 215 miles across southern England from west to east.

It is navigable right up to Lechlade, a 124 mile stretch from the lock at Teddington, (London). Over this huge length it only drops 69 metres, so you see, rather than rushing, it just “keeps rolling along, down to the mighty sea”.

Its flow is scientifically regulated by means of reservoirs and weirs;

there are 44 weir systems along this 124 mile section, and of course 44 locks.

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If the river level rises, the lock keepers can hold the water back to safely flood selected area or open sluice gates to allow the water down to the next section.

It is like a 124 mile cascade with water overflowing from one section to the next.

I can remember 'high waters' at Bourne End'

but nothing like the picture shown below.

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Floods at Bourne End. (photo Tim Harrison)

You can see how poor old Cock Marsh gets to take the excess water,

and protects Bourne End on the opposite bank.

I found an old black & white newsreel film here,

but it wasn't possible to embed it in the blog.

It is of flooding in Bourne End & Cookham.

(Note to Foody - there is no sound and it contains both ponies and chickens! )

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A February Song

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I'm going to cheat again.

Yesterday, I thought of going to Great Missenden

to see the Snowdrops.

But,

...... it was the same day as our monthly get-together

at the Amersham Organ Museum, which I couldn't miss.

So,

....here are the Snowdrops - from last year.

(I'm hoping they will still be out next Sunday.)

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Deep sleeps the Winter, cold wet and grey;

Surely all the world is dead; Spring is far away.

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Wait ! The world shall waken; it is not dead, for lo,

The Fair Maids of February stand in the snow!

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Now with tender pencilled cup,

And with triple wings of white,

Snowdrop-maidens flutter up,

Wakened from the winter's night.

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Now the birch with ruddier rind,

Hears the tit call to his fellow;

February's gentle wind,

Turns the happy larches yellow.

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Sunday, 21st of February 2010. Great Missenden. England.

** A February Song - H. D. Rawnsley

Note: All the pictures will enlarge (by a left click on them).

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