Back in February, Storm Eunice caused widespread property damage and destruction, together with power cuts, to many households. Because of the resulting damage and destruction, particularly to fencing, many have been left wondering where their legal boundary is and who is responsible for paying to repair or replace the damaged fence.
Neighbourly disputes Many household insurance policies specifically exclude fencing as an insured risk. It can be expensive to fence and the choice of structure and colour scheme are often a very personal choice. It is not uncommon for neighbours to disagree over what type of boundary feature should be erected; the precise position of the posts; who should have the ‘best side’ facing them; and what colour to paint it. In circumstances where a fence needs replacing, and the fencing quotation far exceeds £1,000, it is not surprising that many people would then look to their title deeds or documents to try to ascertain the answers to the questions posed above. The truth is that deeds or registered title documents and plans are often silent on the question of ownership of boundary features. Some plans contain ‘T marks’ that can be taken as evidence of ownership; most plans do not. There is also a common misconception that the red line shown on registered title plans shows precisely the position of the legal boundary between properties.
Don’t reply on the red lines Land Registry plans are for identification only, based upon ordnance survey plans. The red line shown on the plan and depicting a boundary may in fact provide for an error of a couple of metres from the position of the true ‘legal boundary’. It is a far from satisfactory position, and often misunderstood. In the absence of express obligations as to ownership or maintenance, it can be extremely beneficial to obtain professional legal, and also surveyor’s advice, if you are looking to establish the position of your legal boundary and who may be responsible for maintenance or replacement of the boundary features.
We’re here for you Porter Dodson Solicitors has a designated Property Disputes Team who can provide advice and assistance where a boundary dispute or boundary question arises. To find out more, contact Helen Williams: [email protected] or 01935 846758.
Blue tits are on a surprisingly precarious tightrope each spring. Nature writer Jane Adams shares the task ahead of ‘her’ Bonnie and Clyde.
Both sexes look similar, but the male blue tit is considerably brighter, especially in the blue on the head. It is thought that as they get older, they get brighter plumage with each subsequent moult. No other British tit has blue in its plumage. The breeding season varies with location and season, but generally starts in the third week of April. Though blue tits will lay repeat clutches if their first is lost, they rarely try and rear two broods.
In March, as I battled with 6ft bamboo canes in the overgrown veg patch, two blue tits scolded me from a nearby beech tree. It happens every year: they’ve chosen a nest box nailed to the side of the potting shed and as they flit back and forth, they think I’m a bit too close for comfort. I’ve named them Bonnie and Clyde and they look glamorous in their yellow and blue feathered coats. They’re living life on the edge – their eggs must hatch at the same time as the caterpillars they catch to feed their chicks. It’s all down to timing. In April Bonnie built the nest. Starting with a platform of moss and leaves and finishing by wiggling her body to form a nest cup where she placed tiny soft feathers. This month she’s laid an egg each day until she has a clutch of ten. Each weighs in at a whopping one gram. By the time she finished, she’d laid more than her own body weight in eggs. Now, she has her bare plucked chest (called a brood patch) resting against the eggs to incubate them. Anyday now they’ll hatch. If the weather’s good, both parents will find the caterpillars needed to appease the appetites of their hungry chicks. It’s thought that blue tits need to find 100 caterpillars a day to feed each chick, and as the youngsters can take three weeks to fledge, that’s more than 15,000 caterpillars.
The clutch size is highly variable, but usually ranges from 7-13 eggs. Clutches as large as 19 eggs, all laid by the same female, have been recorded
No wonder scientists are worried by the effect climate change will have on our native birds’ long-term survival. With spring starting earlier, temperatures rising and rain increasing, will (or can) our birds adapt? For now, I’m keeping an eye on this intrepid pair and hoping they don’t come to a sticky end like their namesakes.
Extra Fact File: If you see bees buzzing in and out of your nest boxes, don’t panic. It’s a privilege. They’re likely to be tree bumblebees, and they often nest in bird nest boxes. Treat them with the same respect you would nesting birds. Relish having them in your garden pollinating your plants. Their lifecycle is quick, and they’ll be gone within a couple of months.
Part time housekeeping assistant (permanent role) required for Country Estate near Evershot. Working as part of a small team carrying out daily cleaning and laundry to a high standard with the requirement to undertake occasional dinner service.
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Training will be provided.
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…and foragable flowers, buds and leaves make gorgeous tissanes – and will always perk up your spice mixes, says expert Carl Mintern.
Ox Eye Daisies – also known as Dog Daisy or Moon Daisy, this tall grassland flower native to Europe also has another trick up its leaves. The flowers are tasty eaten raw and can be added to salads or desserts and the flower buds can be pickled like capers. The flowers also can be tempura battered and bizarrely taste a little bit pineappley.
As we move closer to the heights of summer, the outdoors draws us more heavily with its mild temperatures, and longer days. What better time to go foraging for some delicious wild edible plants to celebrate the incoming heady days that summertime promises. In May the hawthorn (Crataegus monogyna) bushes are heaving with blossom. Their blooms being a May staple is surely the reason so many May Day traditions of the UK feature their thorny branches. And these flowers can make a great addition to salads and other dishes as an attractive garnish. The young growth of the flower buds and young leaves are all edible now before they mature later in the season, and can be used to make more of any side salad: indeed, at this time of year I would argue no salad should be denied the inclusion of a wild harvest. Hawthorn can be found in many hedgerows all over the Blackmore Vale and beyond, and on waste ground and woodlands. It flowers from now to midsummer, sporting five petalled flowers that smell faintly of almonds, with deeply lobed leaves on its thorny thin branches.
The small-leaved lime: charming, sturdy, pollinator-magnet. Not only does the small-leaved lime’s blossom produce a sweet scent and pleasantly minty honey, its leaves support the caterpillars of moths such as the lime hawk, peppered and vapourer.
Mild and succulent leaves Next up, the lime (Tilia cordata) tree is one you really ought to include on your itinerary of May foraging. The young, heart-shaped leaves of small-leaved lime (and other species of lime) are not only edible, but entirely delicious and can make up the bulk of a decent salad. Mild and succulent, they have a great flavour that isn’t tainted by the bitterness associated with many wild salad greens. Be sure to harvest the young leaves though, before they mature and get a papery texture. If you are really lucky, you may even find an aphid farm, curated by ants, which has excreted a silvery substance on your leaves. If so, this is a real prize, as it is almost as if the leaf has been dipped in honey. This substance is the equivalent of aphids making lime syrup from the sap for you and leaving it behind. The lime tree is one of the trees that is found growing wild in any space where such habitat is preserved, but also cultivated in parks and the like, making it another easy to find specimen for novice foragers. My last choice for May’s Foraging guide is the oxeye daisy (Leucanthemum vulgare). Sometimes also called the dog daisy, oxeye daisy is a plant no doubt you will already recognise which offers up to us both its flowers and flower buds as table fare. In addition, the leaves are also edible, although tend to become bitter once the flowering has begun – so be sure to harvest only leaves from younger plants. Growing almost anywhere grass grows and isn’t too manicured, the oxeye daisy is another incredibly common plant one can pursue with little trouble and will likely be available right through into September or even October.
Britain’s most famous hawthorn is the Holy Thorn of Glastonbury. Legend tells of how Joseph of Arimathea, the uncle of the Virgin Mary, arrived at a hill overlooking Glastonbury Tor. Where he thrust his staff into the ground it sprouted and grew into a thorn tree. Though the original is obviously long gone, one of its supposed descendants does still stand on the hill. This particular hawthorn blooms twice a year, once in May and again around Christmas. A sprig of one of these Glastonbury thorns from outside St Johns Church is traditionally sent to the Queen. She is said to decorate her breakfast table with it on Christmas morning.
Think beyond salads Once harvested, the fun has only just begun as there is a plethora of uses for the edible parts of this much overlooked plant. As mentioned, the leaves can be added to salads, and the flowers are often cooked in a simple tempura batter (recipe here). Just the petals can be used to liven up any dish as a garnish (have I mentioned before that no salad should ever be without some wild flowers?!) but there are many uses even beyond this. Dried leaves and flowers can be stored and used to make teas when they are out of season, and the fresh versions can be used likewise straight away. The dried leaves can be crushed and used to add to herb mixes, and the flower buds can be pickled like capers. For me, my love of foraging begins and ends in the kitchen, and what better way to spend your May evenings than by enjoying a wild salad with lime and hawthorn, with some daisy tea as the sun sets, before setting about preserving your produce in the kitchen, pickling and drying. Productive bliss, a gift from May’s bounty.
Second episode of May’s podcast is out now – just click the play button to listen
In May episode two:
Buying two horses unseen was a risk, but the results are absolutely wonderful, and the season has started well, says Toots Bartlett, our national three day event rider diarist.
In Tales from the Vale, Andy Palmer shares tales of rationing and his mum’s war
The fascinating history of compassion, bravery and the largest pitched battle in Dorset during the Civil War is told by Rupert Hardy, chair of North Dorset CPRE
Pubs in previous centuries staged a wild variety of events to draw in customers – but they weren’t quite the same as today’s quiz nights and ‘open mic’ sessions, explains Roger Guttridge as he talks about Shroton’s village pub
The tale of an innocent Dorset boy who quickly became a man in the horrors of the Napoleonic war is vividly described by Roger Guttridge
Birds living and breeding on the UK’s farmland saw numbers decline by almost a tenth in just five years, says Dorset Wildlife Trust
Blue tits are on a surprisingly precarious tightrope each spring. Nature writer Jane Adams shares the task ahead of ‘her’ Bonnie and Clyde
With his gardening jobs for May, Pete Harcom suggests now’s the time to look for optimum siting for plants to bloom
Crating the tulips image – Melanie Ward
Originally a wildflower from Asia, Europe’s love for tulips meant that some bulbs were worth more than a house during the height of the Dutch craze for the plant, as Charlotte Tombs relates
Life or death foals, DIY one-sided milking, windswept legs, film stardom and “Go Honeysuckle, go!” – it’s another average month at The Glanvilles Stud with Lucy Procter
When Jemima Green was paralysed from the waist down after a car crash, she thought she’d never be able to ride again. She was wrong – she shares her story
Events at a Dorset council meeting made national headlines, but ultimately overshadowed the importance of the vote, says Labour’s Pat Osborne
The Government is punishing the victims of cross-channel trafficking, not the perpetrators, says north Dorset Lib Dems’ Mike Chapman.
The tale of an innocent Dorset boy who quickly became a man in the horrors of the Napoleonic war is vividly described by Roger Guttridge.
J T Willmore’s engraving of the Storming of the Centre Pass at Roliça, one of the battles that Harris describes
When Benjamin Harris of Stalbridge exchanged the gentle pace of life as a shepherd boy for military service, he had no idea what he was letting himself in for. After tending sheep since infancy, the 22-year-old met an army recruiting team in Blandford in 1803, and was seduced into ‘taking the King’s shilling’. Army records reveal that Harris was paid £11 (approximately £900 today) for signing up, which must have seemed a fortune to someone whose weekly wage would have been a few shillings. He spent the next 11 years as a private, mostly in the 95th Rifles, surviving battles and other tribulations that claimed the lives of many comrades. Although illiterate, Harris later dictated a vivid account of the Peninsular War, which was first published in 1848 and reprinted in 1995, with notes and additions, by Dorset writer Eileen Hathaway (see image below). Benjamin, son of shepherd Robert Harris and his wife Elizabeth, was a ‘sheep-boy’ from an early age. ‘As soon almost as I could run, I began helping to look after the sheep on the downs of Blandford in Dorsetshire where I was born,’ he says. ‘Tending the flocks and herds under my charge and occasionally, in the long winter nights, learning the art of making shoes, I grew a hardy little chap.’ His hardiness would come in handy in later years. ‘One fine day, in 1803, I was drawn as a soldier for the Army of Reserve. ‘Without troubling myself much about the change which was to take place in the hitherto quiet routine of my days, I was drafted into the 66th Regiment of Foot and bid goodbye to my shepherd companions.’ Benjamin’s decision meant leaving his ageing father ‘without an assistant to collect his flocks just as he was beginning more than ever to require one’. A shocked Robert Harris did his best to remedy his son’s impulsiveness. ‘He tried hard to buy me off, and to persuade the sergeant that I was of no use as a soldier, having maimed my right hand by breaking a forefinger when a child,’ says Benjamin. ‘But the sergeant said I was just the sort of little chap he wanted, and off he went, carrying me, and a batch of other recruits, away with him.’
Front cover of the 1995 edition of Benjamin Harris’ book
Witnessing an execution One of Benjamin’s first military experiences was to witness the execution of a soldier who had joined up 16 times to claim the bounty and deserted every time. In 1808 Harris was involved in the first skirmishes of the Peninsular campaign against Napoleon in Portugal. ‘I often look back with wonder at the light-hearted style, the jollity and reckless indifference with which men, destined in so short a time to fall, hurried onwards to the field of strife,’ he says. Among those whose deaths he witnessed was Joseph Cockayne, shot in the head while swigging water. In those days many women followed their men to the battlefields. ‘After the battle, when the roll was called, some of the females came along the line to inquire of the survivors whether they knew anything about their husbands,’ Harris recalled. Mrs Cockayne refused to believe Joseph was dead and insisted on being taken to the spot. ‘I made my way over the ground we had fought on. She followed, sobbing,’ says Harris in a particularly moving section. When they reached her husband’s body, Mrs Cockayne ‘embraced a stiffened corpse, then rose and contemplated his disfigured face for some minutes’. ‘She took a prayer book from her pocket, and with hands clasped and tears streaming down her cheeks, she knelt down and repeated the service for the dead over the body.’
‘Widow refused my offer!’ Harris later offered to marry the ‘handsome woman’ but she said she’d never think of marrying another soldier. Some horrors described by Harris are almost too awful to contemplate. After the Battle of Vimeiro, a churchyard became an open-air hospital where surgeons, ‘their hands and arms covered with blood, looked like butchers in the shambles’. ‘As I passed, I saw at least 20 legs lying on the ground, many clothed in the long black gaiters then worn by the infantry of the line,’ Harris adds. During a winter retreat to Corunna and Vigo, a heavily pregnant Irishwoman and her husband fell by the wayside in the snow and were not expected to be seen again. But a little later the couple were hurrying to catch up, complete with their newborn baby. Between them they carried the baby to the end of the retreat and sailed for England.
Pubs in previous centuries staged a wild variety of events to draw in customers – but they weren’t quite the same as today’s quiz nights and ‘open mic’ sessions, explains Roger Guttridge.
The White Hart, Shroton, in the early 1900s. Picture from David Burnett’s book Lost Dorset: The Villages & Countryside, based on Barry Cuff ’s postcard collection
If you think Shroton’s village pub looks markedly different from its forebear, you’d be right – and there’s a good reason for that. The Cricketers of today was built a century ago after the thatched White Hart that stood on the same site was burnt down. The fire was in 1920 but the White Hart name survived until the 1990s when it was changed to celebrate the pub’s long association with Shroton Cricket Club, founded in 1857. The pub’s own origins are lost in the mists of time. Village historian Judith Hewitt tells me the earliest record of a pub in Shroton dates from before 1715, when victualler Edward New paid £10 for his liquor licence. It’s not clear where Mr New’s premises were. In 1759 victualler John Goddard kept a pub at ‘the sign of a Bush’. The Bush was renamed the White Hart the following year. Goddard’s name appears again in 1807, when the White Hart hosted a major auction of timber comprising ‘100 prime maiden oaks, with lops and bark’ and ‘21 ashes’, all standing at Shroton Farm.
Gory list of attractions The White Hart also hosted cock- fighting in 1799, with the Salisbury and Winchester Journal advertising ‘a main of cocks to be fought, 15 on each side’. The prizes were ‘10 guineas a battle’ and ‘50 guineas the odd battle’. On Boxing Day 1889, a pigeon shooting competition was held at the White Hart with a sweepstake for ‘valuable prizes’. Tickets cost five shillings and ‘conveyances’ were organised to meet trains at Shillingstone station with a fare of one shilling. For much of the 19th century the pub was associated with the Andrews family and Shroton Brewery, who rented it from the Pitt Rivers Estate. In 1918 the Estate, anticipating death duties, offered the pub for sale and it was bought by Blandford brewers Hall & Woodhouse for £750.
The familiar post- 1920 building, now called the Cricketers
The sale was held at the Swan in Sturminster Newton and the catalogue describes the building as ‘brick-built with a thatched roof and fronted by a small lawn and open green beyond, extending to the main highway’. The green is now the car park. Facilities in 1918 included a bar, smoking room, taproom, large living room, large cellars, three bedrooms, lobby, attic bedroom, long clubroom and a long room that doubled as a skittle alley and trap house. The outbuildings included a two- room former brewhouse and a four-stall stable. The landlord at the time was Joseph Crew, who paid an annual rent of £45 and whose wife or sister appear in the early 1900s picture above. During the 19th century the clubroom and long room hosted coroner’s inquests, the cricket club AGM, political meetings and Christmas dinners for village organisations.
The fascinating history of compassion, bravery and pitched battle in Dorset during the Civil War is told by Rupert Hardy, chair of North Dorset CPRE.
Hambledon Hill, an Iron Age hill fort known for its spectacular views across the Blackmore Vale. Few people walking the ramparts today are aware that 3-4,000 local men, led by Richard Newman of Fifehead Magdalen and the Rev. Thomas Bravel of Compton Abbas, fought Cromwell and his Roundhead Dragoons, with up to 60 men killed as they eventually fled
People often forget how severely Dorset was impacted by the Civil War which started in earnest in 1642. The county lay between the Royalist strongholds in the West Country and those of the Roundheads in South East. Dorset was very divided with Sherborne and Blandford Royalist while Dorchester and Lyme Regis were strong supporters of Parliament. There were repeated clashes and sieges, such as at Corfe Castle, where the brave Lady Bankes held out for years. However ,the largest pitched battle was at Hambledon Hill in 1645, and was fought between an army of Roundheads and a motley band of local farmers, called Clubmen, driven to defend their land and homes from the ravages of both Roundhead and Cavalier soldiers. Indiscriminate plundering and looting by these troops in Dorset and other counties had gone on for several years badly affecting rural communities, especially in the Vale. Soldiers were for the most part ill-paid and poorly disciplined, living off the land, although the formation of the New Model Army in 1645 improved things to some degree.
A white ribbon on their hats In exasperation farmers formed local militias to defend themselves and their families. They were known as Clubman, due to the rudimentary nature of their arms, including clubs and pitchforks. They were often led by the local clergy, as well as gentry, while their ‘uniform’ was no more than a white ribbon on their hats as a sign that they were a neutral third party. They did carry banners saying: “If you offer to plunder or take our cattel, be assured we will bid you battel!”. The first notable sign of them in Dorset was in February 1645 when 1,000 gathered at Godmanstone, outside Dorchester, and killed a few Royalist soldiers. By May, Clubmen were organising themselves throughout the west of England, and 4,000 gathered on Clubmen’s Down near Fontmell Down to create articles of covenant and organise groups of watchmen to guard against the soldiers who stole and plundered. In June a similar large gathering took place at Badbury Rings calling for “an end to this civil and unnatural war within the Kingdom”. The next month a deputation of clerics and gentry presented parliamentarian General Sir Thomas Fairfax with a petition in Dorchester, which prompted him to promise them good discipline. However, in August Fairfax started to besiege Sherborne Castle, but found his supply lines threatened by Clubmen. He therefore sent troops, commanded by no less a figure than Oliver Cromwell, to Shaftesbury to arrest their leaders as they presented a real threat to his Parliamentary forces. Cromwell did this, but then nearly faced a battle with Clubmen at nearby Duncliffe Hill. However, he managed to pacify them after an arduous climb to the top of the hill to meet their leaders, including Richard Newman of Fifehead Magdalen.
Oliver Cromwell by master miniaturist Samuel Cooper in 1656 – the portrait which coined the phrase ‘warts and all’. Cooper’s original, in watercolour on vellum, is the size of a 50p piece but miraculously detailed – from the bald patch, creased forehead and roughened cheeks to the jowly five o’clock shadow. When Cromwell came to Cooper’s studio, he gave the famous order for less flattery and more accuracy
Battle of Hambledon Hill A few days later the Clubman had regrouped on Hambledon Hill. They numbered 3-4,000 and were led by Newman and the Rev. Thomas Bravel of Compton Abbas. They were determined to make a stand against the Roundhead dragoons, while Cromwell thought it was time put an end to the threat they posed to his supply lines. He attempted to negotiate but was met with a hail of bullets which killed two of his men. The Clubmen had dug trenches and used the existing Iron Age banks and ditches. They were expecting a frontal attack, but Cromwell outwitted them by sending 50 dragoons to charge their rear as he attacked the front. The Clubmen took one look at the dragoons bearing down on them and most fled down the hill in panic, with up to 60 killed. Three hundred were locked up overnight at Shroton, including four “malignant priests”. Cromwell gave them a lecture and then dismissed them calling them “poor silly creatures”. A Roundhead helmet hung from the church there until quite recently as a reminder. The Clubmen might have had greater success had they been more united. Part of this was related to the army of occupation they feared more. Langport Clubmen only experienced the ravages of Royalists, so they actually helped the Roundhead army in 1645 while those in Dorset and Wiltshire feared both armies.
Rebellion by the ‘common man’ There were more Clubmen risings later in the year but The Battle of Hambledon Hill was the last time they presented a real threat to either army. It would be wrong to underestimate them though. The failure of either the King or Parliament to agree a peace treaty only served to increase tension as plundering continued, and gave further motivation to the Clubmen. After Hambledon these were demonstrated largely through physical demonstrations and print culture, particularly in pamphlets. Joshua Sprigg, chaplain to General Fairfax, summed it up well, if the Clubmen rising “had not been crushed in the egg, it had on an instant run all over the kingdom”. Some historians have sought to attribute revolutionary tendencies to them, but this is simply not true. They mostly wanted a return to the status quo before the war, but they are remembered as early instigators of rebellion by the ‘common man’ and their example of community self-defence was inspirational.
If you’re keen to learn more, the book ‘CLUBMEN 1645, Neutralism in a Revolution’ by local author Haydn Wheeler is available here.
The English Civil War 1642-9 The conflict started when King Charles 1, believing he had the divine right to rule, was confronted by ‘commoners’ in Parliament who demanded a more democratic (by the then standards) rule of law. The impasse led to open conflict with the Royalist army, supporters of the king, opposing the ‘Roundheads’, supporters of Parliament The conflict ended with the trial of the monarch ‘for treason’ after ‘the will of the common man’ triumphed. Found ‘guilty’, Charles was beheaded outside The Banqueting Hall, Westminster, on January 30th 1649 – almost exactly 144 years before the French revolutionaries beheaded Louis XV1.
It is September 1939 and a young girl, around 12 years old, is hushed while the family gathers in the kitchen: ‘there’s an important announcement on the wireless.’ The Prime Minister is announcing to the nation ‘we are at war with Germany’. I’ll break in at this sombre moment to recall the memory of Spike Milligan, a teenager, later called-up to fight. He was in his London home at exactly the same time as our young Blackmore Vale girl, his family also hushed around the wireless, as Chamberlain made his announcement, ‘we are at war…’. Spike’s dad indignantly said of the deluded, failed premier, “I like the ‘we’!”. And how life changed for the little girl. The families were issued with gas masks, ID cards and ration books. The gas masks had to be carried at all times. What a coming of age for the poor children. Now too old for Mappowder’s infant school our young girl and others were bused to Buckland Newton primary, a rather bare three roomed building. The children were told to bring a hessian sack into school the next day, where the girls slit the edges so they resembled small blankets. The hessian squares – one for each child – were dyed green and they were told to listen for the whistles.
SW London on VE Day – top left you can spot Andy’s mum Audrey Philipson, aged 15, with her hand on her hip, apparently rather annoyed that the war was over
One pheep on the whistle meant the children had to put on the gas masks. Two shrill calls on the whistle instructed the children to lie down flat on the ground and cover themselves with their green hessian blanket in order to minimise being machine gunned by passing German planes. Three whistle calls meant ‘run to the trenches’, which were at the top of the school garden and under a hedge. And there they had to stay, presumably alternating between being scared rigid and giggling until they heard the ‘all-clear’. You may think it a bit far-fetched, the thought of highly intelligent German pilots, from an allegedly super-cultured nation that gave us Schiller, Goethe, Beethoven (we’ll omit Kraftwerk) modern psychiatry et al, machine gunning English civilians, including women and children. Not at all: it is well-documented. I used to play chess in East Sussex with some elderly gentlemen (and yes, they always won, but they did checkmate me with a charming air of regret). They all remembered their boyhood in Kent spent excitedly watching the German formations drone over and running for cover when a low- level fighter came over searching for ‘a bit of fun’. Indeed, secretly recorded conversations from captured pilots in British-run POW camps caught some pilots boasting about the fun of such heroic war work and of their prowess. Obviously, such a thing couldn’t happen in Europe today. Oh, hang on …
Now, onto food I’ve mentioned before that one of my first jobs was to establish and run an education department in a military museum (Fort Newhaven in East Sussex – see my column in Feb’s BV) . The job was easy as we had no end of original artefacts to display and for school age children to handle. But it was all pretty much geared for boys, and I wanted it to be attractive to girls. So not only did we display authentic uniforms for women called up – the WRENS uniforms were most admired – I thought it interesting if children could appreciate the weekly food allowance which, I’ll admit, rather astounded me.
The nation’s new diet Rationing was introduced on January 8th, 1940 and a typical person’s weekly ration – the amounts fluctuated throughout the conflict – roughly allowed per person: • 1 egg, • 2oz of tea • 2 oz of butter • 1 oz of cheese • 8 oz of sugar • 4 oz of bacon • 4 oz of margarine Just a quick note: fifty modern teabags weighs 4.8 oz (they re-used tea bags). A modern pack of butter is 9 oz. Two tablespoons of sugar is 1.7 oz – no wonder people sweetened cake mixture with root vegetables, mainly carrots. It may be interesting for children to weigh out two ounces of butter and see how much they get to last a week. As for bananas, oranges, lemons and other imported fruit and nuts, forget it. In 1946 my mum, aged 16, was given an orange, and she’d forgotten what they were. When told it was to eat she took a bite and grimaced – she didn’t know you had to peel it. The last time she’d seen an orange, she was nine. So, at the museum I got the art department to knock up a display of a typical week’s food allowance. Our female visitors were astonished – but the boys were even more horrified.
National Loaf No, this wasn’t a massive country-wide lie-in: rationing made people inventive. We had an example during the 70th VE Day anniversary in the village hall in Mappowder. The villagers went to great efforts to reproduce authentic war time festive meals. By and large it was all inedible, including the ‘National Loaf’, which my wife researched and baked. The National Loaf was a Government-inspired horror which urged bakers not to use wasteful white purified flour, but the grain husks, too. I’m all for wholemeal and roughage but there are limits, as the Government must have thought as they tried to sell the concept with the ditty: Pat-a-loaf, pat-a-loaf Baker’s man Bake me a loaf as fast as you can It builds up my health And its taste is good I find that I like eating Just what I should. I think it fairly clear that the author at the propaganda ministry either hadn’t tried the National Loaf – or had one hell of an imagination. Not sure if the ditty worked but that didn’t matter. There was little other choice for most people. And there was the notorious Woolton Pie, named after the Food Ministry boss. Of this monstrosity, I can only say that if you tried a modern ‘Homity Pie’ in what seems to be the regulation bullet-proof pastry from a particularly austere vegetarian café, then that would be sumptuous by comparison.
Mrs Lillie Taylor of Oldham, Lancashire at work in the Ministry of Food kitchen. She was “one of 25 housewives chosen to show cookery experts of the Ministry of Food how they vary their rations”.
A sheltered upbringing Bit more about my mum, which I have gently touched on in an earlier article: mum, based in SW London, rather liked the war and thoroughly enjoyed the air raids in 1940. Even now I wonder at the morality of adult males thinking it OK to kill a 10 year old girl and her mum. Mum had little thought for that. “It was so cosy in the shelter. Dad made up beds, we had hot milk in a thermos and I was allowed to read by candlelight.” Typical of my mum: it’s just ‘me, me, me!’
…rationing wasn’t rationed! And did rationing end right after the war in May 1945? No. My mum was nine when rationing started, and she was a 24 year old qualified teacher when it ended on July 4th, 1954. Blast! No, that wasn’t a bomb, I’ve been distracted (bloody Germans!). I meant to write about life in the Blackmore Vale based on our young north Dorset girl’s memoirs, but got carried away. We’ll see if the Editor wants more next issue. (NO, write something cheerful, for the love of macaroni. Ed)
