August. Dartington Hall. Olympic Regatta - the great Kelly; stands empty; Bertie Bushell. Holiday on Dartmoor.
Monday, August 3rd
Hilary home last Wednesday from Dartington with a most shattering report at which Nora much worried. Does not seem to like adults at Dartington and achieves very little in lessons. The terrific heat wave came to an end on Saturday and today torrential rain and thunder.
Saturday, August 7th
A very busy week. The Olympic Regatta in Henley. Much decoration with flags and coloured poles, banners, flood-lighting and five rings of the Olympic Games. Unfortunately the weather was very humid. We had three boys and niece Audrey in the house. The boys mainly went off by themselves. On Thursday went down in the morning to the towpath and sat on the grass where we had a good view of the middle part of the course and saw the single sculls, pairs and coxless fours, including the great Kelly of the U.S.A. In the afternoon we took our tea to the Fawley Meadows to see the eights. These by far the most exciting and a terrific struggle between G.B. and Norway and a superb performance by the USA, who did the course, the only one ever to do so, in under 6 minutes. I did not go down yesterday or today. There was a terrific rain storm about 12 during which Uruguay beat the U.S.A (Kelly) in the sculls by 6 inches. As hosts we have rather overdone it at Henley. There were two enclosures, A (25/-) and B (21/-). In B two large stands and a “Gents” tent about the size of St Paul’s Cathedral were erected. On Thursday the stands were almost completely empty.
Nora had bought an excellent pair of German field glasses (loot) with which you could see from start to finish, but as the boats were near end on it was impossible to see who had won if it was a close race and you had to wait for the loudspeakers. The results were given in English, French and the languages of the competitors. The start was by a rocket which roared up and burst high in the air, the sound much behind the smoke but making an echo in the tree-clad hills.
Negotiations going on in Moscow in secret. We had two hours of Mr Stalin’s undivided attention yesterday. At any rate we have given up any idea of agreement between the three allies and are now down to hard trading….
Sunday, Aug 8th
Yes, I think we’ve got the Russians in a fix. They gambled on being able to starve us out and they have failed. The initiative has passed to us; we are in no hurry to negotiate. Our currency reform in Germany has been a success and greatly raised our prestige among all Germans. The Marshall Plan is getting under weigh and the Germans in the eastern zone are showing signs of restlessness.
Monday, Aug 9th
Went down to Fawley meadows again and saw England win the pairs and double sculls. The latter bow oar, Bertie Bushell, and old boy in 1936 when I came as headmaster in 1934.
Tuesday, Aug 10th
Called at 4.30 a.m. by telephone, taxi at 5.50 to Reading, 6.20 from Reading to Exeter, arrived Exeter 10.50. Went to Cathedral with Hilary. As they were mending the nave windows and nave had been cleared of chairs, you could see the base of the columns for the first time in my lifetime. It looked very fine indeed. To lunch with Maud at Bain’s at 12.0, then at 13.30 by taxi to Runnage. At Moreton Hampstead Hilary sick and had to get out and walk. Reached Runnage 3.30. Got the tent pitched before it rained, which it soon did. Mrs Coaker was out but when she arrived across the field about eight we were all gone to bed quite exhausted.
Wednesday, Aug 11th
Windy and wet. Got the lavatory screen up. In a most dilapidated condition. Christened it The Throne of Bagdad. We are using our new flysheet of balloon fabric which made the tent quite waterproof.
Thursday, Aug 12th
Cold, windy with showers.
Friday, Aug 13th
A rather better day. Went to Bellever in the afternoon but did not make a fire as too damp.
No watch and small clock we brought with us has developed a loose hour hand, so no means of telling the time except by stomach, sunset, and lighting up time. The two last from a copy of The Times one day old. Found the absence of a timekeeper very alarming at first, felt most uncomfortable about it; mine a most time-conscious profession in which for years on end one’s day is regulated by minutes. Now might be anything up to an hour or two out for one never knew at what time one’s day began (since sunrise at 5.30).
Saturday, Aug 14th
Walked to the Vitifer tin mines and up on Birch Tor picking whortleberries. The Forestry Commission had ploughed and planted [illegible] so it was difficult to get across it. Bellever even worse and surprising how tall trees have grown since 1940. Hilary found an adder in the marsh at Vitifer but it got away. Coming back, however, he found another that I killed. When we reached the mine found we had no kettle. However, recovered an old American army tin from a dump in fair condition and boiled the waster for tea in that. Suffered no ill effects!
Sunday, Aug 15th
A blustery and rainy day which improved later. Walked over to the eccentric commander’s. He is now living in a chalet in Paignton. Penetrated his fastness and took a look at his home – a two roomed wooden hut roofed in with corrugated tin and entirely surrounded by a thick fir screen. He had made some attempt to grow a few vegetables and had planted a few rhododendrons; otherwise there was natural green turf. No rainwater butts even, but the gutters led away by pipes into the grass. All the windows carefully curtained. His life since he retired from the navy 30 years ago.
Monday, Aug 16th
Got cleaned up early and walked by moor to Bakeny and on to Dartmeet. Had our lunch by the river and tea at Badger’s Holt. Had raised Nora'’s and Hilary’s hopes of a good tea, but it was poor and expensive, but surroundings pleasant. While we were having tea a heavy shower of rain. Started back, but though rather better than when I did the walk with Mary, some nasty quagmires and shoes full of water. Arrived home very tired and sciatic leg not very good.
Tuesday, Aug 17th
Rained in the morning, but cleared in the afternoon and a brilliant evening with lovely shadows, blues, purples and distant views which make the moor so rewarding in spite of its weather.
Wednesday, Aug 18th
A very poor day, rained all afternoon steadily and was unable to go out, though at 4 o’clock Nora and Hilary went to Postbridge to get the mail. Last night bitterly cold and felt like a frost, but brilliant stars and clear, so hoped for better things, but when woke up leaden sky and no wind.
Yesterday asked Hilary how he was getting on at Dartington. He replied he was not getting on at all. Finally decided to write to John Guinness and ask him if he would have Hilary back. He seems very frustrated at Dartington by lessons and has become very aggressive – query because of frustration. He has ambitions in academic things and no answer to suggest he just does not go into lessons.
(Ed: I was quite happy at Dartington until the summer term of 1948, when I fell out with my friends. I never told my parents why I was so miserable when I came home for the summer holiday, but what happened was this. At Dartington pupils were not compelled to go to classes and the longer I was there the fewer I went to. I played a lot of football in the winter terms and a lot of cricket in the summer, developing as bowler a rather good off-break. The grounds and countryside around Dartington – the River Dart, woods and meadows, the Dartington Estate and the Senior School, the village shop - were a dream for adventurous small boys. Another feature of the school was that each pupil has his or her own room, where one could spend one’s time undisturbed if one did not feel like lessons. My downfall came after a gang of boys (I think we were all boys, but perhaps not) from my house, Blackhams, if I remember rightly, staged a night raid on the Junior School food store, which was quite difficult to get into, and stole some goodies, mainly, I think, dried fruit. The raid took place shortly before the half term holiday. The plan was to share out the haul on the train from Totnes to Paddington. Very stupidly, I volunteered to carry the booty onto the train. There was just one hitch. I travelled in the slip coach, which was decoupled from the train and coasted to a stop at Reading Station while the rest of the train roared on to Paddington. There was no communication between the slip coach and the other carriages. When I got back to school, I was outlawed as a traitor to the gang and mobbed, a very unpleasant experience. To complete my humiliation, the staff decided, quite rightly I should think, that I was not sufficiently mature to go up to the Senior School with the rest of my year in the term beginning in September. I am eternally grateful to my parents for having spotted that there was something seriously wrong and taking prompt action to remove me from Dartington and return me to Long Dene School, where I was happy, and happily attended the obligatory lessons. until it was time for me to go on to another school, Leighton Park, on reaching the age of 16 in 1952.
Thursday, Aug 19th
The first really fine day we have had. Long white Norman Wilkinson clouds, warm sun and cool wind. We walked over to Widdicombe by the track across Hameldown. Here you get the two contrasted views, first, as you climb the range, Bellever, Laughter, Yar, (illegible) and Birch Tors, a panorama stretching away to Princetown and the high tors beyond Postbridge. Then as you reach the summit, Hey Tor and Rippon Tor, the tower of Widdicome church and the road climbing to Hey Tor rocks. Widdicombe I think dull, the church tower grand, but the interior poor, mean and damp, the two shops almost entirely given up to the sale of tourist junk, pixies, pottery rabbits and brass toasting forks or door knockers. However, over the junk shop up an outside ladder there exists an ironmongers, where I bought some green paint for the caravan.
Friday, Aug 20th
The fine day yesterday followed by a wet morning, but it cleared sufficiently to stew a rabbit on the open fire. Have begun painting the front of the caravan. We went a short distance along the Widdicombe road in the afternoon and made tea in a wood where we made a big fire and slung the kettle on a tripod with some wire we found. Nora painted.
The more I look at the caravan the more shaky it seems. Worm has attacked the table and chair and part of the interior plywood. The sides are gaping in many places but this has been got round by covering with tarred felt. However, the floor, where the damp has in the past got at it, is rotting and I think a really heavy visitor might go through it altogether.
Saturday, Aug 21st
A dreadful day of gales and driving rain. Impossible to leave the caravan without getting soaked. The flysheet on Hilary’s tent tore so had to get him in and put him on the top bunk. The caravan roof at the height of the storm leaked on Nora’s bed. The stream rose very fast. Just managed to struggle across the field to Mr Coaker’s to get the mail. Spent the rest of the day lying in bed reading Roger Fulford’s Royal Dukes, the lives of Queen Victoria’s wicked uncles.
Sunday, Aug 22nd
The day broke grey with low cloud but cleared later in the morning and the afternoon warm and sunny. I spent the morning tarring the roof and hope that if the rain returned I might stop the leaks. In the afternoon Hilary and I walked to Warren House and back and saw an adder, but only succeeded in knocking 3 inches off its tail. We began clearing up, burying tins, cutting gorse to keep the ponies off the caravan.
Monday, Aug 23rd
The wind got up in the night and blew in strong gusts, waking us up at 2.30 a.m. By morning the sky was overcast with low driving cloud, but little rain fell. Hilary went back to his tent yesterday, which stood up well to the gales.
The afternoon was dull, but we set off to Bellever. Hilary and Nora stayed by the bridge, but I set off up Laughter Tor from the Laughter Hole road. When I got to the top I saw what appeared to be a terrific storm coming up, so I hurried back to the bridge and urged Hilary and Nora to hurry home with all speed, which we did. Then nothing came of it and the weather improved! We might as well have stayed and had the tea we had brought with us. Such is the English climate.
Tuesday, Aug 24th
Came back. 15 packages going, 10 coming back. Had seats all the way. Taxi to Moreton from Postbridge. How people manage any holidays at all I don’t know. I think they must all live in debt.
Wednesday, Aug 25th
Letter from John saying he would take Hilary back to Long Dene and Hilary much more cheerful as a consequence. Much amused because as we neared home I put on my tie, saying that we were entering the stockbroker zone. Busy working at timetable, which I got finished in two days and a bit. Practice has made me cunning. Getting gear together to camp at Roel Hill and mending flysheet which tore on Dartmoor.
Monday, Aug 30th
Started off at 8.30 for Dover… An interesting town which I had not visited before. About half the houses on the front completely shattered and stayed at one of the few hotels functioning, the Shalimar. Had hardly started to unpack when Mary arrived from Pralognan la Valoise. She had brought me most lovely box of autumn crocus. They were tight shut , but as soon as the lid was taken off they sprang up like jack-in-the-boxes and gave off a lovely honeyed scent.
Tuesday, Aug 31st
Went over to St Margaret’s Bay and lay on the beach till tea time..… Coming back we got off at the castle and explored the church, terribly restored inside in the 19th century. The walls and the magnificent Angevin keep. On one tower of this the Union Jack flew stiff in the breeze, new and brightly coloured. One felt in the presence of history and the distant past and history made in our own lifetime, conscious of the continuity of our nation’s life and proud of our unconquered island. After dinner we went round to the old harbour withy its sordid C18th houses from which I suppose Shelley and Byron sailed.
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