MUSINGS FROM THE BOWER 39

The apple blosssom looked stunning against the blue sky

When Paul McCartney sang ‘When I’m 64’ in the 1960s, we youngsters thought it hilarious. What a great age 64 was!  We’d try to picture the Beatle singing the song when he really was 64 (which would be in 2006 or thereabouts) – it was just unimaginable. The Liverpool Sound was young music, music for girls in miniskirts with pale lips and lashings of mascara. It wasn’t for ‘oldies’. Our parents thought the music from the groups was, in the main, a dreadful noise – they liked Frank Sinatra or Ruby Murray. When that Liverpool Sound first made an impact, it was as though the whole of the music industry had been struck by lightning. One minute we were listening to gentle lilting songs mainly from solo artists – and then, Pow! Almost overnight, we were awash with groups. The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, Gerry and the Pacemakers, Billy J.Kramer and the Dakotas, The Swinging Blue Jeans, The Searchers, The Who, The Merseybeats, The Animals and many others. Remarkably, many of the groups are still around, still touring and performing today.

Meeting Gerry of Gerry and the Pacemakers

Last night I caught up with one of them – Gerry and the Pacemakers. They were performing at a local theatre in Bishop’s Stortford, and I was amazed how the music and the songs sounded just as I remembered them from my youth. Gerry still has the voice; that unique, distinctive sound that carries ballads such as ‘Don’t Let the Sun Catch You Crying’ and ‘Ferry Cross the Mersey’ and, of course, ‘You’ll Never Walk Alone’. Naturally, he sang his bouncy hits as well, including ‘How Do You Do What You Do To Me?’ and ‘I Like It’. After the show I was talking to Steve, the lead guitarist, who said that Gerry has so much energy, he just goes on and on, and unlike many other older artists, his voice still hits the same key, so the band don’t have to make any musical changes. I met Gerry too and told him how much I enjoyed the show. He complimented me on the colour of my dress – I rather think it was because it reminded him of his beloved Liverpool Football team!

Same dress, different event - doll fair in Barton

Last week I went to Preston to attend a doll fair. My daughter and I publish a quarterly doll magazine, Doll Showcase, and sometimes we have a stall at a doll fair to promote the magazine and also to sell the doll books that I have written. The fair was run by a lady called Roberta and held in Barton Village Hall, and is an event we have been to several times before. For any doll collectors in the area, I thoroughly recommend these doll fairs which take place four times a year – they are so friendly and there are plenty of dolls and doll accessories to see.

Photo grabbed from the car - and another below. Not too blurry!

Unfortunately, as we were only staying for a couple of nights – at the Preston Ibis, a hotel that we hadn’t used before, but was very pleasing – we were unable to see much of the incredibly beautiful scenery of the area. In the past, we have made visits to the stunning Trough of Bowland, which is a valley and high pass in the Forest of Bowland. The views are stupendous. We have also visited Brockholes nature reserve, but this time we didn’t have the time to go exploring – we just managed a quick drive after the fair, so I had to be content with admiring the view and taking photos from the car window. (It’s okay, I was a passenger!) Even so, we saw some of the beautiful countryside, the bluebells, the gorse and the sheep and cows. It’s a bit of a hit and miss thing, trying to take photos from the car, as usually they come out blurred if you use the side window, while if you take them through the windscreen, though they may be sharper, you tend to get other cars and lots of road!

Over the past month or so I have been bothered by sciatica. First thing in the morning it is agonising, just like a knife at the bottom of my spine and shooting through my legs, but as I get walking it dulls to an ache. Often, though, my legs feel wobbly, so I can’t walk very far. The doctors have given me various tablets, which take the edge off the pain, but I think it is just one of those things that will eventually get better on its own, and I must just put up with it.

The blossom around the bower

 Clematis around the bower is just coming into flower

It hasn’t stopped me enjoying the garden though. The blossom, especially on the apple and crab apple trees, has been stunning this year. As you might expect, the view from the bower is delightful, and now the pink clematis that climbs up one of the main supports is just starting to flower, too. Although the weather hasn’t been too good, we have had a few sunny days. Yesterday morning, the sky was a clear blue with not a cloud to be seen, and the blossom looked magical, enlivened even more by the blue tits, robins and squirrels who were all seemingly enjoying exploring the branches. The petals are just beginning to fall now which is a shame, so the lawn looks as though it has been sprinkled with confetti. They are probably not doing the small pond much good, though – they will need skimming off the water surface. But it’s a small price to pay for the gorgeous blossom, and hopefully, a good crop of fruit – certainly the bees have been busy.

Years ago I was speaking to someone who had a beautiful neat garden, and she told me she ‘hated’ fruit trees and would never grow them because of the mess their petals made. To me, though, the beauty of the blossom more than makes up for any ‘mess’ caused by petal drop. To sum up, in the words of Gerry and the Pacemakers (even though he didn’t have blossom in mind at the time), ‘I like it – are you liking it too?’!

MUSINGS FROM THE BOWER 38

One of my all-time favourite things is to sit in the bower on a sunny day reading a book. Nothing can be better, and if it’s a really good book, then I can get so immersed that it drowns out the noise of passing lorries, barking dogs  and the ice cream van that plays a speeded-up version of ‘Teddy Bears Picnic’. I’ve loved books ever since I was very small, and passed the love on to both my son and daughter.

I was reading fluently by the age of four, which wasn’t really a good thing because when I started at my London infants’ school, they stuck rigidly to a reading scheme. I had to work my way through a heap of Janet and John books, and wasn’t allowed to skip any of them or go on to anything more progressive until the other children in the class could read, too. So I was given plasticine or farm animals to play with, the school library being a forbidden place for infants.

Luckily, I was already a member of the public library in Brixton and I clearly remember being taken there by my Dad, who told the librarian that I wanted to borrow books like he did. She towered above me and asked how old I was. ‘Three,’ I said. She frowned, but Dad quickly explained how much I enjoyed books, and that he knew the joining age was five, but he was sure that I would be careful. So the lady smiled and said, ‘You won’t tear the pages or write in the books, will you?’ I was shocked, it hadn’t occurred to me that people might do that.  It was at that library I discovered the ‘Mary Plain’ books by Gwynedd Rae. I loved those books, which told of a naughty little bear who lived in the Berne, Switzerland, and her adventures when she was taken on holiday. At first my parents read them to me, but soon I could read them for myself.

I was given a copy of ‘When We Were Very Young’ by A A Milne when I was three, though oddly, never discovered the delights of Winnie the Pooh until I was ten, when my form teacher decided to read Pooh stories to the class because, as he said, ‘They’re too good for very small children’! I discovered the Alison Uttley ‘Little Grey Rabbit’ books at an early age too, as well as the ‘Blackberry Farm’ series by Jane Pilgrim. I didn’t really get to read the Beatrix Potter books until I was an adult.

It’s odd how you can come across a book at a boot sale or in an old shop, and be whisked back to your childhood. It’s happened to me several times. Recently, I was in a secondhand bookshop. A thin book with a pink cover seemed familiar and I said to my daughter, ‘Inside, there’s a picture of a baby being weighed’. She looked at me strangely, picked up the book – it fell open at that page. I must have last seen that book when I was four or five. Also, I’d always remembered a story about a cow who swallowed an umbrella (she got fat when it rained because she put the umbrella up!), and was really pleased to come across it by chance a few years ago in an old annual. I recall a book of ‘Listen With Mother’ stories, which included one about a little boy who had a ‘useful bag’ in which he kept such things as string and chalk. I had that book when I was small, and always wanted to have a useful bag, too. I’d love to find that book again. I did, though, manage to find copies of 'Kiddie Kut' books of 'The Water Babies' and 'Sleeping Beauty' - as a child, I thought Molly B Thomson's illustrations were beautiful. 

Over my childhood years I discovered delights such as  ‘Alice in Wonderland’, ‘Swallows and Amazons’, ‘What Katy Did’, ‘Little Women’ ‘Treasure Island’, ‘Heidi’ and ‘Black Beauty’. I was lucky because Dad worked at an educational publishing company and Mum worked in a book and newspaper distribution office, so there was plenty of reading matter around. I had Noddy books and other Enid Blyton books such as ‘The Adventures of Mary Mouse’, and then I came across the Famous Five series, which I adored. The headmaster at my junior school in Welwyn Garden City would proclaim, ‘Enid Blyton is a blight on English Literature. I don’t want to see any pupils reading her books’. We continued to, of course – how could you not be enthralled reading about tomboy George and her dog Timmy, Julian, Dick and soppy Ann, all discovering a treasure island? I soon became a fan of Enid’s Malory Towers, too, even though I had no experience of boarding school life.

My boy cousins had the Jennings books by Anthony Buckeridge – more boarding school books – and I really enjoyed these. And then I discovered Malcolm Saville. I don’t know what it is about these books, but I still read them today. He set his exciting adventures in such places as Shropshire, Rye, Whitby and Norfolk; it was a bonus that you could see the actual places where the events took place.The children, mainly teens, that featured in the books were likeable, too. I still have a treasured letter from Malcolm Saville, who was kind enough to reply when, as a ten year old, I told him how much I loved his books. Never, ever, did I think that such a great author would take the trouble to reply to me!

People often ask who my favourite author is, but I don’t have one. I find that what I read depends on my mood/the time of year/ the circumstances. I don’t have highbrow tastes, I’m as happy with a thriller or a light romance as I am with a classic read. I do like Robert Goddard’s mystery books, even though I have to keep referring back as they are so involved, and I enjoy Jonathan Gash ‘Lovejoy’ books, too. Evelyn Waugh’s ‘Rise and Fall’ and ‘Scoop’ are brilliant, while my favourite Dickens is ‘Pickwick Papers’ , which not many people seem to like very much. Dorothy Sayers and Margery Allingham detective novels also appeal – old fashioned, but entertaining.

Of the non-fiction books, all of Gerald Durrell’s are special, they’re another series I read and re-read, as are the Lilian Beckwith books, set on Skye. Recently we invested in yet another bookcase; this one holds much of my collection of natural history books as well as favourite novels and biographies. We have many bookcases, because I can't bear to part with a book - you never know when it might come in useful. I have read most of my collection, I'm pleased to say.

Pride of place goes to a very special book of mine. Called, ‘My First Book of British Birds’ it is the book which first sowed the seeds of a love for nature which has persisted ever since. This is yet another book that I was given when very young, probably two or three – I feel as though I’ve had it for ever. Even today I remember the simple poems, such as ‘Teacher, teacher, teacher is the great tit’s song, reminding me of school-time so I must run along’. And to make it even more special it has a large bite in the corner, chewed by the puppy that I had when I was small. Yes, books can whisk you back to the past in more ways than one!