A Short History of a Nearly Nobody

Helping my dad in the Bothy gardens went through a number of phases. At first we wanted to clear a path from the house to the gate in the wall at what looked like the bottom of the garden. Clearing and having bonfires is my idea of having had fun. The next task was to restore the health of the very many fruit trees in the garden. Dad had a book all about pruning fruit trees, so it was a job to be taken seriously. And slowly over a couple of years fruit began to appear. Apples, pears, plums, peaches of all varieties one could imagine. Coxes orange pipin apples are the best I can remember. In the old house there were fruit storage shelves so we could keep some varieties of apples and pears for many months. But the the best crop from the garden, down by the stream were the Snowdrops. Each Year we were living in the Bothy we (my sisters and me) picked snowdrops, put them into neat bunches of about 50 flowers each and backed with two Ivy leaves and tied neatly with rafia. Dad (or...

Not quite sure when we left Kingston Russel, but I do remember being taken to Hardys Grammar School in Dorchester by my dad to meet the headmaster for an interview. It seems that although I had been accepted into Bridport Grammar it did not mean that I was automatically entitled to transfer to Hardys. However, I was allowed in and another chapter in my school life began. As Hardys was a boys school and most of the teachers were former Army officers who had seen action in the second world war. The headmaster was a Major, the French teacher and most of the others were Captains as far a I can remember. The French teacher for my classes was nick named Calais (of course) and I did not learn much from him (but mostly my fault). As I have lived in French speaking Switzerland and France for many years now, I have paid a high price for my lack of interest as a student of the language. But I get by. One of my happier school memories was of the CCF Combined cadet force. I was a radio operato...

Well it was time to move. My parents decided that they had lived too long with Grandad Martin and needed their independence, so we were going to leave the seaside for the country. So off we went, all the family together to look at country cottages. Winterborne Abas was the first village we visited but there was not much garden. The loo was a shed at the end of the garden too. Eventually we found paradise on Kingston Russel farm. About half a mile from the main Dorchester to Bridport road and one of a pair of two story cottages. Ours was the left hand one of the pair as you look at it from the front and had about half an acre of land. Just what Dad and Mum (I hope) wanted. It was a sort of dream land. Woods and fields for a young lad to explore, and a big dairy farm with friendly staff. Just before we moved I had sat my 11+ exam at St. John's School in Weymouth, and while waiting for results went to the village school in LongBredy. An interesting little place with one class...