It was 8.00 pm on the second Wednesday in September and I, along with several of my colleagues, was on my hands and knees peeling a cling film like substance off the new floor in the Library. Twelve hours later 1,400 new students descended on the College for their first taste of Barton Peveril. We had just made it!

The Glyn Library has a new entrance at its centre, opening onto the central courtyard. It is designed to draw students in and the design seems to be working. Inside, the Library is open plan and carefully finished to allow it to accommodate one hundred more people. Since the beginning of term, usage has increased by 60%. We will open it for you to admire next May at the AGM.

On the other side of the courtyard Old Bartonians will notice the old, 1950s block has also had a face lift! The entire Mountbatten building is now clad with a white steel covered foam and is double glazed. It will be warmer in winter and cooler in summer. With any luck our carbon footprint will have

improved a little but, most importantly, our students and staff should be significantly more comfortable as they sit in their Science classes working out the moles in a chemical reaction, the current passing through a circuit or the enzyme which breaks down starch. The Old Bartonian is a tougher character than his or her successor and we take our hats off to you, but nowadays we do prefer a more constant temperature!

So what next? I don’t suppose it will surprise you to know that as soon as the Lord Lieutenant of Hampshire, Dame Mary Fagan, opens the Glyn Library on 15^th November we will put to the governors a plan to build a new Maths Centre just beyond the Rose Theatre.

Our Maths team teach classes of 22 in classrooms of 35 square metres – a more realistic size might be some 50 square metres which would allow teachers and students to circulate better, work in groups or conduct practical experiments. This next step, like the Library refurbishment, will have to be self-funded. There is no money in the Department for Education’s budget for capital projects in sixth form colleges. And so, I’m afraid the job of running Barton Peveril continues to be as much leading a business as leading education and learning!

Our first email comes from the USA and John Young (1947 - 1951) who sheds further light on why “Little Willy” - Mr. Sansbury to you and I, and why he was so called…………

“I had missed reading the Bartonian news letters for a year or so - due to senior moments - and finally got round to doing so. I really enjoyed them and, during the reading, realised that no one seemed to know where Mr. Sansbury acquired the nickname “ Little Willy”. As far as I can remember being told during my time at ECHS, he was given that name because he never moved slowly and was always in a hurry. Someone, way before my time, likened him to “WEE WILLIE WINKY” who “runs through the town, upstairs and downstairs in his nightgown”.

I was always fascinated with teachers nicknames. Remember “Bud” Habbits who was named after the comedy team of Bud Abbott and Lou Costello. “Bing” Almond was named when the girls found out that Bing Crosby was bald - and the guy you probably never knew, replacing Mr. Spicer as the PE teacher was “Spiv” David. We named him as he was so well dressed with immaculate blazer, grey trousers and a white track suit. The London barrow boys were named “Spivs” as they dressed with “flashy” clothes and ties. When he left the School he made a speech and said he would always remember Eastleigh County High School for the wonderful name he had acquired. Hope all is well with everyone - hope the Saints can keep it going.

Arthur Sansbury Stanley Lebern Gordon Cox Arthur Almond John Barry Arthur Habbitts (1951)

Mr David (1947) - supply teacher? JCB

Greetings.

Lynne and I send good wishes to all our friends.

It seems appropriate to give you an update, as today we are remembering the first quake (7.1) which woke us all up 4.35 am on September 4th 2011. Although the quake lasted around 40 seconds it seemed to go on for much longer than that! No one died and we all considered ourselves fortunate. We picked up all the broken stuff and cleaned up as best we could inside and (liquefaction) outside. We dug a hole in the back garden to use as a loo, found our emergency stored water, got water boiling on the BBQs and checked on our neighbours.

It has been a year in which the shakes have continued, with even more devastating results, including loss of life in the February quake. Damage to significant buildings, made many irreparable and there is an ongoing saga with claims for loss of land, businesses, homes and, contents of homes. The last inquest on the 180 who died in February was held this week. The seismologists predict an 80% chance of more shock in the 5 region over the next 2 years, and according to today’s newspaper have experienced 8,358 seismic shocks this year (many of course lower than a detectable 3) We continue to live with uncertainty, the grief of losses, and the realization that there is in fact no 'new normal', only what you can make for yourself. Electricity and treated water have been restored throughout, but the sewerage system is going to take much longer to repair on the eastern side of the city and demolitions continue daily. throughout the region. People have lost family and friends , homes, land, jobs and businesses. With fortitude and determination those that remain in Christchurch (many have abandoned the city), are determined to see it through and make a new start. However Lynne and I are aware that the slowness of this will be such that we will only partly see it in what lifetime is left to us. We have no hope that the repairs in our home will even be re- assessed this year, let alone dealt with. Fortunately we are in the 'green zone' as our damage is comparatively minor, and waiting patiently is the way we can help others so much worse off.

All of this and the continuing shakes (2 this week alone in the 5 bracket) makes for uncertainty, and depression is a common result of the stresses that people are feeling, In early July, Lynne, with her usual care and perception, took me on a mystery drive after my birthday celebration breakfast at Drexels.. We ended up at the S.P.C.A. where I was invited to choose a kitten or cat to bring home. Maxi and I chose each other!!!! He was the 6th kitten I held. He was 4 months old- totally black with short hair and as sleek as a panther. He has brought joy into the house with his antics and his desire for company. He is so affectionate and giving. He is just wonderful and I am besotted. The last pet I had was a white cat (Timmy) when I was eleven. So we are on a learning curve and loving it! I couldn't resist trying to train him-so he will now sit on command for his food -roll over for a tickle, go onto his special chair when told to, and sits up on his hind legs for a treat - so who needs a dog!???? I think however getting him to 'stay' will be my 'waterloo' in the training stakes!

I am also going to the local school twice a week to hear the same three children read each time. I am delighted to be doing this and am loving the experience. Going to the gym during the week copes with maintaining health and for stress release, and frequent visits with Lynne to the local coffee shop, plus seeing Lynne's family regularly are now our personal 'new normal'.

Lynne has recently had a good report from oncology. A reason for her continuing pain when walking has yet to be found, but 4 monthly spinal injections and daily morphine based tablets help to keep it all under reasonable control although sleepiness from the tablets cannot be avoided. She has minor niggles after the broken bones sustained after church on Easter Sunday. By the way the Cathedral may be temporarily replaced ( for 10 years) by a cardboard building!!!!!!! A proposition from a Japanese architect and being seriously considered.

Spring is in the air and spirits rise. It is a wonderful season with its hope, increasing daylight and new growth. The lambs are in the Canterbury paddocks, the willows are greening and the daffodils are out. We think the winter snows are behind us and we look forward now to summer. The Rugby World Cup is about to start. The All Blacks are expected to win the tournament. That would certainly boost morale throughout the nation- but there is a long way to go for the team to achieve this, and many have doubts! The little boy who will carry the ball onto the field in Dunedin on 2nd October (Ireland v Italy I think) is one of the three I take for reading- He is so cute! He loves choosing reward stickers that I take in each time and his fluency is increasing rapidly!

Well, on that happy note I will conclude this update. When one looks at so many world situations caused by war, famine, poverty, over-population and devastating climate effects, our situation here is remarkably good and the city is well-organized . It is just a fact that any of the traumas we find ourselves involved in are neither easily nor quickly fixed. We live with uncertainty, and Lynne and I count our many blessings and are grateful.

We send love to you all,

Kia Kaha and Aroha,

Ann and Lynne

A TRIBUTE TO THE LATE DAVID LOWTON FROM HIS BROTHER

As was reported in the last Bartonian, David died suddenly in March of this year.

This was obviously a great shock to all who knew him. I never thought that I would write a tribute to a brother who was four years younger than me.

David’s achievements over the years were admirable and, although I was proud of him, I don’t think I ever said so to his face ( brothers don’t do they ? )

He learnt to play the piano at an early age and when he grew tall enough to reach the pedals became a very competent organist. Following our father’s example he became an organist and choirmaster not in just one church but in several over his working life when he was moved to various offices in the south and southwest. Being also a very good singer he was a great asset to all the choirs and Choral Societies he was involved with in his lifetime.

I suppose his first achievement of note was to be appointed head boy at Barton Peveril. A keen sportsman he played cricket and football for the school and for several years played for the Old Bartonian’s Football Club, never attaining the heights of a regular first team player, they were good in those days.

His National Service in the RAF took him to Cyprus at the time of the Suez crisis, which he put a stop to very quickly, or so he said, and arrived home on leave unexpectedly on Christmas day 1956.

A few months before demob he took a special civil service entrance exam and when the results came he was very near the top of the list. He applied to work in the Colonial Office or Foreign Office so was appointed to the Inland Revenue! He recounted the story of an RAF officer who asked him what he was going to do after demob. When he told him he said, you may as well stay in the RAF, but the only similarity David could see between the RAF and the civil service was that the toilet paper had “Government Property” printed on it.

David’s first appointment was at the Worthing tax office. The first person he saw when he arrived was a girl called Sandra which was fortunate for both of them as they were subsequently married. This led to a great family life, four children and seven grandchildren.

When he became a tax inspector this involved several house moves, starting at Lancing then Weymouth, Winchester and finally Weston-Super-Mare where they were able to stay as his other postings at Weston, Bristol and Bridgewater were all within easy reach.

Following my example he retired early when aged 57 and then had time to indulge in his various interests such as music, travel, photography. He delighted in spending time with his children and their families and was indeed fortunate to have such a loving family.

It is some comfort to know that he had such a fulfilling and happy life and I feel privileged to have had such a brother.

________________________

Chapter 2 Of Kathleen Clarke’s book “The Evil to Come”……… When I was working in Australia (1953 -55) I had been appalled to see, throughout the parts occupied by Europeans, so many starkly white skeletons of gum-trees.Their branches, like open arms, appealed to the unrelenting sky. They had been ring-barked so that they would die. It saved cutting them down. In my school geography lessons I had learned that dust-bowls were created by the loss of roots of trees which bind the soil together. Maybe I had shown my horror at the loss of trees, during my first visit to Western Creek in 1976. Perhaps to dispel that and to re-assure me that plenty of trees remained I was taken one day, into a very large forest, part of which is managed by the State. From the modern vantage-point of a tall fire look-out I surveyed an area where the trees stretched to the shylone. I had not expected to see so many. Close-to, they were rather spindly but quite tall, bluish coloured trees. At the base of the metal tower the ground was poor. There was little depth to it. Small red stones were interspersed with a few ground-hugging plants. They had rather insignificant, pale colours, as though drained of strength by the sun’s fierce rays. Yet, once picked, in the hand, the flowers were individually beautiful. Honey-eaters fed from vivid, cultivated flowers in the homestead garden which was watered from bores. Primary colours were the reserve of the birds it would seem. Red and yellow parrots, white, sulphur-crested cockatoos and green budgerigars put on a brilliant display when they flew.

After trees had been ring-barked to save felling and as the owner of the property could wait for some time to take its effect, the paddocks, as I learned to call the “fields”, could be cleared and sown with maize (Indian corn) or wheat or grass. These would be the crops for extra feeding, if necessary, for the cattle. (Further north, at Cecil Plains, but not at Western Creek, I saw acre upon acre of cotton cultivated in neat rows, as well as sorghum and millet. Even further north, sugar cane and all tropical fruits are grown.) Another day I walked into a part of the forest where primeval trees such as I had never seen in England waved their flowing branches in their element, the air, just like seaweed in the sea. These were called bull-oak trees.

No life can exist without water. Captain Cook came ashore for it. In 1788 Captain Phillip came ashore for it, the most urgent cause for it being to feed the few remaining animals left on board after their tremendous voyage. In the Old World, cities and towns were sited where water was available as well as in a good defensive position. The latter was not needed in Australia. Water was. The original huts put up by the first settlers followed this age-old pattern. By the creek which flows into the Condamine river would seem sensible to the Captain. Maybe it had running water in it when first ignoles came upon the scene there but it is not always that this creek flows with water. The water in the river and creeks was not bountiful nor permanent enough for the type of irrigation such as the Arabs had brought to Europe. No dams could be made to stop the flow temporarily so that the life-giving water could be diverted round the fields. The fields were not little patchwork ones such as we see in Engl and, but limitless expanses, bounded later by barbed wire, not hedges.

From the beginning, the squatters would have known that they had to conserve all the rainwater they could. Who has not seen the old corrugated roofs of Australia and New Zealand ? Every house had one fifty years ago. They were necessary to catch the rain which could come down torrentially. From here it would be diverted into a large circular tank. Large, bright, circular tanks are an every-day sight in Australia. Only in the inner cities now are they not to be seen outside every habitation. Ned and Tom have several, raised on wooden platforms. When rain comes, and it could be after many years of drought, it sometimes comes mightily. In any case, anyone out in the paddocks and seeing the storm clouds brewing will hasten for home. Otherwise they could be completely cut off. The dirt roads can be impassable after a deluge of rain. Any vehicle, even a four-wheel drive, can be bogged down. Whole creek-sides can cave in, and road-sides collapse. I have seen the resultant water, sandy mud and debris from trees and plants spread all across what was a decent road.

The Rev. Glennie remarked on one occasion that the hailstones were as large as pigeon’s eggs. Yes, the weather can be fierce and the temperature can drop. Always at Western Creek it is cold at night. The days can be sweltering, up to 40 degrees C. but at night the temperature goes down to below zero on occasions. I have often looked out of the window early in the morning to see frost outside. The men could be up then. Once the sun comes up the white disappears. Vignoles would have suffered these extremes of temperature. His first years on the property would have been very hard. Stamina and determination were and still are necessary. I expect the Vignoles family was cautious with money and possessions. They would not be likely to squander their inheritance. Perseverance is a trait of the Huguenots and Vignoles knew of hardship and deprivation from his days in the outback when he was a soldier. Life was tough and rough for most in the first half of the 19^th century. After using his own youthful vigour, as time progressed he would have employeed servants to do the menial work. He was still a “master”. He would have seen, when he arrived in 1838, many convicts working by day for civilian masters (and the army officers). Before complete release, the convicts would be allowed to work (in distinguishing uniform) as “tocket of leave” men. The trusted ones could even be allowed away at night. Of course, sometimes they escaped. If they were caught, they could expect at least a flogging and generally transportation to a worse penal settlement. Norfolk Island was the worst of all. Really hardened criminals were sent there. Sometimes disobedient soldiers were sent, too. Here, most of the men in charge were hard-hearted in the extreme. It was a case of “them or us”.

It was no wonder that when Vignoles retired to Queensland he wanted the influx of convicts to continue. Here was a perfect supply of cheap labour. He voted for the transportation to Brisbane to continue. The Australian windmills made of iron, resemble our electricity pylons more than our windmills, with one large wheel consisting of triangular-shaped flaps around it, the spaces between which can be adjusted to allow more or less wind to go through. These are known in text-books as American windmills. They were created when the settlers in the USA crossed over into the vast plains. Very early in the annals of Australian history some clever engineer perfected the windmill of the outback, a very picturesque part of the Australian scene. Such windmills on postcards and Christmas cards evoke the rural idyll. We had a picnic near one another day, in 1976. I would say in the shadow of one but there is little shade afforded by such structures.

European windmills, whose large sails of canvas billowing out as on an old sailing ship, from the side of a massive brick, stone or wooden construction, were copied for the grinding of corn. The oldest surviving building in Queensland, the windmill on Wickham Terrace, Brisbane, was constructed by convicts in 1828 to grind flour and maize meal as food for the Moreton Bay Settlement. It is a stone and brick building and contained 2 pairs of mill-stones, one connected to the sails, the other to a treadmill outside. This one was used when the windmill was under repair, in calm weather, or as a punishment for convicts. As a tourist in Western Australia, I visited the remains of another windmill, built in 1853 by convicts, at the property which Capt. Sanford, who was known as the “Governor”, called “Lynton”. (His career is very similar to that of Capt. Vignoles. He was the 3^rd son of a property owning gentleman in Somerset. He joined the army at the age of 18, became an ensign in the 43^rd Regt., then Capt. By payment. He sold his commission before sailing to the Swan River Colony.)

Another solid windmill, still a landmark in South Perth, was built in 1853 by the Shenton family from Winchester. In Australia their common windmills can pump up the deep artesian water for the livestock. This water is too brackish for humans but the cattle and sheep can stomach it. The water can run into a borehole or large dam, making a large artificial lake, dug into the ground and earth heaped around. There is one low side where the animals can approach. Sometimes water is pumped up by an engine run on kerosene. This has a tall metal construction over it. All these works need maintenance. In between drinking at these holes in this un-watered area, however, the cattle wander through the scrub and forest, competing for grass with emu and kangaroo. Near the house, long natural troughs from hollowed-out tree-trunks can be seen. Hollowed sections of trees are frequently used as kennels for dogs. Green juicy grass, such as we in England are used to, is unknown in Australia,except perhaps in small lawned areas, artificially irrigated. The beasts of the land must forage widely and make do with a long couch-like grass, a grass that is most of the time like straw in colour and texture. On my return from a walk, one extremely hot day, I saw glistening in the sand at the twelve-foot side of the dry creek bed, some glass. It belonged to a bottle which I dug out. When I showed it to Ned she told me that she had removed several from that area. It was the place where the Victorian servants must have buried their household rubbish. When I had left England year a craze for fossicking in such spoil-heaps had already attracted hundreds of amateur archaeologists, even in my modern hometown. I wonder how many antimacassar pot-lids lie in the sand by the creek ? And how many wine-bottles ? Or did the captain’s supply of rum, wine and beer come by the barrel ?

The puzzles that had teased my imagination faded into the background once I was back in England and working hard every day and evening. Somewhere I had heard that we, in England, had weather whereas other countries had climate.Certainly during the variable weather in Hampshire and especially in the cold, dark, miserable days of winter, my thoughts would return to the clear, blue skies that I had experienced and the sun-soaked, brownish stretches of strong grass which were interspersed between the forest stands of Western Creek. Thank you Kathleen - more to follow…….Ed.

_____________________

The untimely death of Amy Winehouse this summer at the tender age of 27 has prompted me to write. She once described herself as a Jewish jazz singer, although the music she produced could equally be described as blues, which is perhaps why I like it. In 2004 on the Jools Holland show she gave a superb rendition of Diana Washington’s “Teach Me Tonight” which would not have sounded out of place in the 1950s. Her second album “Back to Black” released in 2006, was probably the best album produced by a female singer-songwriter since Joni Mitchell’s “Blue” in 1971. Amy was an immensely talented musician and, as such, was well respected in the industry by young and old alike. Her last recording, three weeks before her death, was a duet entitled “Body and Soul” with Tony Bennett.

When I started school in 1962 the music scene in the UK was changing fast. The Beatles had their first hit that year. A few months later the Rolling Stones arrived on the scene introducing R&B music to the general public. Although Bob Dylan had first visited the UK in 1962 as a folk singer, I did not become aware of him until 1965 when he had changed from acoustic to electric guitar (much to the displeasure of many of the folk fraternity) with the release of “Like a Rolling Stone”   In 1966 a classmate of mine Rich Cleall purchased “Blues Breakers -John Mayall with Eric Clapton” which he had seen listed in the LP charts and had bought on spec. Listening to it for the first time was a revelation.

I would perhaps have been content to listen to the British version of blues music thereafter had it not been for Mike Raven’s R&B show on Radio 1 (launched in 1967) which was broadcast on Sunday evenings. The first track I heard was “It Hurts Me Too” by Elmore James - I was smitten. Several years later I ran my own blues show on University Radio Loughborough during the same time slot. By now a number of us in my year at school were interested in blues music. We did attempt to form a blues club at school but this was turned down. Instead we were given a presentation by Mr Wallerstine who played us a few blues records in the hall after school one evening. I have always felt that if we had asked to form a jazz club instead, we would have been more successful, because jazz somehow seems to have a more respectable image than the blues.

Amy Winehouse performing at the Eurockéennes Festival in France (2007)

We were not discourage and travelled by bus or train to Southampton, Portsmouth and London to see white British blues artists/bands such as John Mayall, Spencer Davis, Fleetwood Mac, Aynsley Dunbar and Duster Bennett, and black American artists/bands such as BB King, Muddy Waters, John Lee Hooker, Champion Jack Dupree and Sonny Terry and Brownie McGhee. Ironically the black American blues artists were far more popular over here with the white youth that they were in there own country where the music was largely segregated. Very few of them had made any real money and they were pleasantly surprised with the warm reception they received over here and were very approachable. I once met John Lee Hooker in the bar at the Guildhall in Portsmouth and asked him if he had known Elmore James who had died a few years before. ‘Yes’ he said ‘He was incredible.’ I was later to meet his cousin Homesick James when he visited Loughborough in the early seventies.

I think it is the duty of every new generation to produce music which their parents find difficult to appreciate. My son Robert has a huge collection of Rap & Hip-Hop which for many years remained a complete mystery to me. By way of an introduction he played “The Score” by the Fugees (1996) and more recently “The College Drop-out” by Kanye West (2004) - and now I am converted!

So, go out and buy at least one of the above albums by either Amy Winehouse, the Fugees or Kayne West and let me know what you think. Be warned, however, there is quite a lot of swearing but do not let that put you off. JCB

It was Wednesday the 21^st March when the Rajula left Bombay and Saturday morning when the dim coastline of Ceylon appeared on the port bow. As we steamed slowly through the harbour entrance I noticed that the Salween, which had left Bombay a few hours before us, was already at her moorings. Columbo harbour was very crowded and we took up one of the last available moorings. There are no proper docks at Colombo. All ships tie up to moorings in the harbour and are re-fuelled from the shore by means of lighters. There is one quite large graving dock however and this was occupied for the whole of our stay by a battleship of the King George V class. We stayed in Columbo harbour for five days but I did not find the experience too boring as there were always ships coming and going. The day after our arrival a mooring adjacent to us was vacated by a small passenger/cargo ship and the Salween moved into I to make room for a warship which was expected. When the warship arrived who should she be but the battle cruiser Renown ! The last time I had seen her was roughly 10 years ago when she was in dry dock at Portsmouth having the Mediterranean sea pumped out of a jagged hole in her bows after she had been in collision with the Hood. How different she looked now with all her brass and paintwork gleaming after a complete re-fit. Two aircraft carriers and half a dozen destroyers also patronised Colombo while we were there for this was the time when our Far Eastern fleet was gathering ready to give support to the invasions of Singapore, Java and Sunatra.

Owing to the secrecy of our operation there was no shore leave in Colombo for passengers or crew but Tuesday morning we went ashore on a bathing parade which was more than welcome as the ablutions on the good ship Rajula were far from luxurious. Landing on the quay at the south end of the harbour we marched right through the town and some two miles beyond along the Galle face until we reached a pre-arranged spot where we donned our swimming trunks and dived in. When we came out of the water a NAAFI van was waiting for us with free cakes and tea. These were a welcome prelude to the march back to the harbour which proved far more tiring than the march out as the sun was high in the sky by then.I felt very tired when I at last climbed up the companion-way on to the deck of the Rajula but nevertheless the exercise had been very welcome and so had the brief glimpse of Ceylon. You know there was something very reminiscent of Portsmouth about Colombo on that fine Spring morning with all the English sailors walking the streets and the WRENS looking just too, too attractive in their spotless white drill costumes. For me their attraction was a purely impersonal one but one fellow spotted his fiancee in the street and experienced the bitter agony of not even being able to speak to her. You see, when you’re on a secret operation you just can’t be allowed the slightest chance of giving away valuable information. That fellow was miserable for days but his fiancee and hundreds more like her would have known no end to their misery had the Japs learnt of our mission and laid in wait for us on the way to 129 Staging Post.

It was while we were in Colombo Harbour that we held our concert party on board the Rajula. Talent was very limited, but Mr. Roberts, who had been appointed ship’s entertainments officer, seemed to think a concert party was an essential on any well run ship. As there were no large public rooms on board, the concert had to be held on one of the open decks. This meant that if it was to be put on in the evening it must be done while we were in Colombo as no lights would be allowed on deck after leaving port. I got the job of compering the show besides doing a turn on my own. A full dress rehearsal was impossible but we went through the opening chorus and some of the individual turns in the Officers’ Lounge several mornings in succession. On the night of the show the piano was removed from the Officers’ Lounge and set up on the hatch cover on the forward well deck. If my memory serves me correctly the curtain was to have gone up (figuratively speaking !) at 19.30. At 19.29½ the forward well deck was still in darkness, the concert party was conspicuous by its absence and, what was more, it had started to rain. A frantic search was made for the ship’s electrician and eventually an arc lamp was hung on one of the derricks near the hatch cover. As one or two artists had arrived as well it was decided to start. The audience had been waiting for the best part of an hour and was, by now, in a stinking bad humour. As I had no wish to take a compulsory swim in Colombo Harbour I decided to cut the opening chorus and also my introductory patter and get straight on with the first turn. Luckily it was a good one and after that the concert party went off pretty smoothly. So much work had gone into the opening chorus that we decided to conclude with it. A foolish thing to do perhaps, but the audience were no longer the howling mob which they had been earlier on. A vote of thanks was passed all round and then the pianist struck the old familiar chord……….

“Here we are again, travelling o’er the bounding main,

With bags of sun and stacks of fun

And lashings of grub for everyone,

Who cares if the steaks are under done ?

- We’re off - across the sea !

Here we are once more, much too far from every shore,

The trip may prove a holiday

And save a few chips from our pay

But we’d rather be pointing the opposite way !

- we’re off - across the sea.”.

Apart from one or two shouts of “Corney” !, the chorus received no opposition and so the show came to an end. However, I shall not, repeat not, compere a concert party on the open deck of a troopship again ! The rain which threatened to ruin the concert party was a vanguard shower of the Ceylon summer monsoon and most evenings while we were in Colombo the sky clouded over and we had a drop of rain accompanied sometimes by thunder and lightning. When there was nothing better to do I spent my time on deck watching the transfer from barges to the ship’s hold of anti-aircraft guns and huge cases of equipment. The code word for all cargo loaded at Colombo was “COCKROACH”. The aptness of that code word I was to learn later. OnWednesday night however, the hatches were finally battened down and on Thursday morning His Majesty’s Troopship “Rajula” sailed from Colombo for an unknown destination.

That same afternoon we got the “gen”. I was lying on my bunk when the usual drone in the loudspeakers indicated that an announcement was about to come over. “Attention, Attention; here is an important announcement. This ship is bound for the Cocos Islands, a group of coral atolls situated midway between Ceylon and Australia, 700 miles west of Java. We are going there to build an airfield which will be 129 Staging Post. There may be slight enemy resistance”.

The Cocos Islands ! One of our guesses had turned out to be correct. Meanwhile, in the officers’ dining room, F/O Roberts and all the other raf and Army officers were getting the “gen” straight from the horse’s mouth - or rather the Air Commodore’s mouth. The Cocos Islands, he explained, constituted an almost perfect coral atoll, a circle of low islands surrounding a blue lagoon. Only one island was inhabited - by Malays who worked the coconut plantations and whose families had come from Java and Sumatra over a century before. On another it was intended to establish the airstrip which would become an invaluable Staging Post for transport command aircraft flying between Ceylon and Australia and later to Java and Sumatra.

After the conference Mr. Roberts came down to see us to give us what information he could. He brought with him a large scale map of the Cocos Islands and pointed out where we would be landing and where the RAF camp would be erected. He also pointed out the radar sites to us and we then understood the vague remarks which he had made on the evening we left Kalyan. The type 57 and the type 61 sites were not on the main island at all but on Horsburgh Island, some 4 miles to the North. His previous references to the type 61 site became clear when he announced that the set had to be man-handled on to the top of an old 100 ft army signal tower on the south eastern tip of Horsburgh Island.As I feel that bits and pieces of disjointed information will only confuse the issue I shall say no more about the islands here but give you a full description of them later on in the book. I would just like to point out however that the treasure hunt in which ir Malcolm Campbell figured had nothing to do with these islands. Treasure Island is Cocos Island off the Pacific coast of South America.

The next day was Good Friday and the weather was cold and the sea inclined to be choppy. There was a certain amount of concern because the ship had no naval escort to protect her from Jap submarines. This was said to be due to the fact that all available destroyers were needed for more active work further east. Anyway the voyage was uneventful although there was mild excitement when the bridge staged a mock “attack” over a lunch period. “Action Stations” was sounded and the news flashed over the tannoy that unidentified aircraft were approaching the ship drom the south east. The ship’s numerous anti-aircraft guns blazed forth for a time and then a calm voice announced, with the faintest suspicion of a chuckle, “Exercise over, exercise over….”

On Saturday the 31^st March we crossed the Equator. The sky was overcast and there was an occasional squall of rain. However, the weather didn’t worry King Neptune whose court went into session on the forward well deck early in the afternoon. Quite a number of the fellows went through the traditional ceremony of being shaved with a huge wooden razor and then pushed into a bath of salt water. I was only a spectator as I was suffering from a rotten cold in the head which I was most anxious to get rid of before the end of the voyage. Not infrequently members of the court went into the water as well as the individual who was being baptised and I think I can safely say that a good time was had by all.

Once across the line I felt that I was at last getting somewhere. 129 Staging Post was no longer a figment of someone’s imagination but a group of coral islands just over the southern horizon.

“Treasurer’s Tales” comes from your Treasurer, Geoff Chadwick……….. Life is not simple and as carefree as it should be ! Amazing how the year has rushed by and it is already time for another magazine ! We are setting up a Quiz Night on Thursday 24^th November and a Christmas Evening Meal on Thursday 1^st December, both in Eastleigh area. Local Hampshire members should have been informed by email or letter, but if you are visiting there still may be places. (I keep the invitations to local members purely to keep the costs down). When the annual letters go out in the Spring I will be asking all if you wish to be notified of these local events, as I know that some are unable to attend because of other commitments: travel, health, and may not wish to be contacted.

I did create the Facebook group, the “Old Bartonians’ Association”, but because I am not an avid user have yet to release it safely to the world. My PA knows about all these things and is coaching me, but I fear her level of knowledge and interest is way above mine - it will soon be there. I am still unsure if it is okay to send emails rather than letters, so Facebook is way too new - and the day-job does get in the way just a little. The finances are in a reasonably healthy state at this time of the year, with only the social events and magazine costs requiring trips to the bank. Always willing to listen to any ideas on both how to increase, and spend, the OBA funds ! GC.

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Goodbye to my England, So long my friend

Your days are numbered, being brought to an end

To be Scottish, Irish or Welsh that’s fine

But don’t say you’re English, that’s way out of line.

The French and Germans may call themselves such

So may Norwegians, the Swedes and the Dutch

You can say you are Russian or maybe a Dane

But don’t say you’re English ever again.

At Broadcasting House the word is taboo

In Brussels it’s scrapped, in Parliament too

Even schools are affected, staff do as they’re told

They must not teach children about England of old.

Writers like Shakespeare, Milton and Shaw

The pupils don’t learn about them any more

How about Agincourt, Hastings, Arnhem or Mons ?

When England lost hosts of her very brave sons.

We are not Europeans, how can we be ?

Europe is miles away over the sea

We’re English from England, let’s all be proud

Stand up and be counted - Shout it out loud !

Let’s tell our neighbours and all our friends too

We’re proud of our heritage and the Red, White and Blue

Fly the flag of Saint George or the Union Jack

Let the world know - WE WANT OUR ENGLAND BACK !!!

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Drinking Vodka & Ice can so easily lead to Kidney failure,

In a similar way, drinking Whisky & Ice so often results in Heart failure,

Lastly, drinking Gin & Ice can be responsible for Brain damage.

The conclusion is clear to any of you drinking……..don’t have Ice !!

For my son’s birthday I thought it would idea to buy him an I phone, something he adores !

Later in the year, my wife bought me an Ipad, which I find so useful.

My daughter’s birthday gave us the opportunity to buy her an Ipod, we don’t see her very often now !

I thought it only right to ensure that my wife was not left out of these modern times and I had the bright idea to get her an Iron - it had everything, but then the fight started - she failed to recognise that her Iron could be integrated with the Iwash, Icook and Iclean !!

I’m afraid this led to the Inag reminder service !………..I hope we can make up soon !!!!

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The following “tale of woe” should interest those of you who dabble with computers - even if you don’t ! It tells the distressing tale of the time that - “The computer swallowed Grandma“!…….

She pressed “Control” and “Enter” and disappeared from view. It devoured her completely, the thought just makes me squirm. She must have caught a virus or been eaten by a worm. I’ve searched through the “recycle Bin” and files of every kind. I’ve even searched the Internet, but nothing did I find. In desperation I asked “Jeeves”, my searches to refine. The reply from him was negative, Not a thing was found “on line”. So, if inside your “Inbox”, My Grandma you should see, Please “Copy”, “Scan” and “Paste” her….and send her back to me !

To conclude this section we have a collection of “gaffs” made by a Royal person who achieved the great age of 90 this year. I have been sent 90 examples of his comments during a succession of Royal visits. I think he would be the first to say that carrying out his duties so well for so many years, he is entitled to a few slip ups ! Here are 10 of the 90 - I found myself saying “Well, I might have said that”! but I am not so closely monitored as the person in question. I just feel that he would have no objection to our raising a smile from his “errors” !

Ghastly” ! His opinion of Beijing, during a 1986 tour of China.

“Ghastly” ! his opinion of Stoke-on-Trent as offered to the City’s MP at Buckingham Palace in 1997.

“How do you keep the natives off the booze long enough to pass the test ?”Asked of a Scottish driving instructor ,1995.

“It looks as though it was put in by an Indian”. His verdict on a fuse box during a tour of a Scottish factory in 1999. He later clarified his comment: “I meant to say cowboys, I just got my cowboys and Indians mixed up”.

“We don’t come here for our health, we can think of other ways of enjoying ourselves”. During a trip to Canada - 1976

“British women can’t cook”. Winning the hearts of the Scottish Women’s Institute.

“You ARE a woman, aren’t you ?” To a woman in Kenya, after accepting a gift.

“Get me a beer. I don’t care what kind it is, just get me a beer !” On being offered the finest Italian wines by PM Giuliano Amato at a dinner in Rome in 2000.

“The problem with London is the tourists. They cause congestion. If we could just stop the tourists, we could stop the congestion”. At the opening of City Hall in 2002.

“It looks like a tart’s bedroom”. On seeing plans for the Duke and Duchess of York’s house at Sunninghall Park.

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