Remembering the Battle of Britain ............ part 4 a film and two music scores

Now there is always a story even behind the most straightforward of events.

Battle of Britain Theme, 1969

So here prompted by a photograph of the record of the Battle of Britain Theme by Ron Goodwin is a tale of two scores.

They were both written for the 1969 film the Battle of Britain.

The first had been composed by Sir William Walton but according to one source was not really liked by the American producers, who instead commissioned Ron Goodwin.*

This in turn led to a spat where Sir Lawrence Oliver threatened to take his name from the credits if Sir William’s composition was not used and eventually a compromise was reached.

A section of the rejected music was used but it was Mr Goodwin’s score that supported the film and will be the one David has on his piece of vinyl.

Sadly I don’t think you will be able to hear the record when David exhibits it as part of his Battle of Britain and Blitz exhibition at the Remembrance Lodge in Southern Cemetery so in the interests of historical accuracy I have included links to extracts from both which long ago were posted on You Tube.

I doubt that there can be anyone who hasn’t seen the film given that its a staple of the TV schedules and I expect get a showing as we enter the period which was the climax of the battle 75 years ago.
I remember seeing it at the cinema and of course have seen it over the years since on the television.

But like all of these things what sticks in my mind is not just the film or the score but an event that must have happened some months before the film was completed, and I suppose was the closest I have ever come to being a film extra.

We were heading back south across London Bridge in the summer of 1968 in the early hours of the morning.

A.R.P. First Aid Box, 1939

And as you would expect there were few people about save a handful pedestrians standing looking out towards the Tower of London and the docks behind it.

What had caught their interest and drew us in was a powerful red glare topped by a plume of smoke directly to the north of Tower Bridge.

We stopped, gawped for a few minutes and having exchanged the sort of comments you do in these situations with total strangers carried on home to Eltham.

I can’t remember if I even checked in the papers the following day for a report of a dockland fire, and it would be a full year and a bit later that I put together the connection between that red glow and the blitz sequences in the film which in all probability was part of the filming.

I might of course be wrong but it is the highlight of watching the film to spot the red glow and recount once again the tale of the night we crossed London Bridge.

Now I I will refrain from asking David to include the story in the exhibition and instead remind you of the new event which will shortly be installed in the Lodge.

Picture; Battle of Britain Theme, 1969 from the collection of David Harrop

*Battle of Britain (film), https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Britain_(film)#Musical_score

**Battle of Britain March Ron Goodwin  High Quality You Tube, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jynq4lEwbew

**Battle of Britain Battle in the Air Sir William Walton, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=feJsR1Kgibc

Travels with my cancer ....... part two ......... doing it all again

Now pretty much everyone who gets told they have cancer, has that very personal decision of who to tell, when to tell, and who to miss out on telling.

Be Happy, 1978

Of course, cancer is not the only illness which presents that set of decisions, but given its potential awfulness it does rank on the topics of conversation not easily had at a friend’s wedding, let alone a funeral.

Last time round, just a year ago we choose to keep  it to family and close friends, and given that one of our sons was in the Far East away from even basic internet the news was broken only when he returned.

In doing so it was not because of some desire to keep it secret, rather to spare a lot of people that awkward moment, where at a loss to know what to say, they fall back on, “it will be alright”, backed up with a plethora of statistics on recovery rates.

Both of which are fully understandable and a response I have done in the past.

You smile, feel embarrassed that they feel embarrassed, mumble “yes”, while quietly thinking, no it won’t be alright, it’s cancer.

Be Happy, 2015

That said, recovery rates for some cancers range from good to very good, so it’s all down to hoping for "the right type of cancer”, along with speedy and effective health care.

All of which I had with the first cancer last year and so far have been experiencing with the second.

The two are unrelated, other than both starting with c, and I joke that I am making a bid for the Guinness Book of Records under the heading of “The man who is going for the record of how many cancers you can have in one year”.

All of which leaves me as it did last time looking positive, and praising the wonderful NHS, with a promise of a note to who ever that small band of Tories choose as PM and another to the President of the USA, that I don’t want my National Health Service sold to anyone, and reasserting that  simple idea that it should always remain free to everyone at the point of need.*

Pictures; Be Happy, Manchester, 1978, Swiss Train, 2015, from the collection of Andrew Simpson

*Travels with my cancer, https://chorltonhistory.blogspot.com/2018/10/travels-with-my-cancer-in-praise-of-nhs.html

The bombsite as a playground ……………… discuss

Now, each generation has to endure the horror stories of the one that preceded it, and in my case, it has been the stories of playgrounds that were really just bomb sites.

Piccadilly Manchester, 1941

And these I regaled my sons with on moments when Dad reflected on the gulf between growing up in the 1950s and that of four decades later.

Of course, I could have plucked plenty of others out of the memory, from listening to the Home Service on the wireless, enduring sweet rationing, to waking to find ice had formed on the inside of the windows during winter.

To these in no particular order, I can add plimsols, soot covered buildings, and those fogs which rolled in unannounced, turned the familiar into an obscure landscape, where sound became muffled and you could be totally lost.

But bombsites were always a favorite, if only to make the comparison with the large numbers of parks and adventure playgrounds that were available to our kids.

Portland Street, Manchester, 1941

At which point I should say that, by the 1950s the sites had been cleared of rubble, but amongst the plants that sprung up there could still be found odd remnants of people’s homes, which lay just below the surface, and became a toy for the day.

Thinking back some of these playgrounds were actually the work of council clearance schemes and developers who vied with each other to tear down the tired Victorian properties and replace them with shiny, bright buildings of glass, steel and concrete.

But they too, offered up opportunities for play, with the edginess that you couldn’t find in the municipal parks.

It was however the legacy of the war that proved most likely to offer an adventure. One such place was the Emergency Water Tank which was directly opposite where we lived in Lausanne Road.

Walter Green House, 2009 on the site of the EWS tank

It had been a row of fine terraced houses, which took a direct hit, and what was left was beyond saving.

So, the cellars were cleared, the sides built up and it became a space to hold a large quantity of water which could be pumped out to assist in fighting fires set off by the German bombs.

There was another just a few minutes’ walk away and I guess more, which I now can’t remember.

They were what they said they were, places to store emergency water supplies in the event that the water mains were damaged by an enemy action.

Ours was drained after the water and became a dumping place for all manner of rubbish.

Getting in was tricky, as was getting out, but never underestimate the curiosity and cunning of eight-year old to climb over the low built up brick wall, descend into the pit and later get back out again.

I can’t remember what we played, but I suspect with a powerful dollop of imagination it will have involved, mountaineering, or just plain pretend “dog fights” between German bombers and RAF fighters.

Me, in 1957

As for the “treasures” which had been discarded in the pit, I do recall there were slim pickings, and the main game was rolling a rusty empty oil drum back and forth.

Which was a little less exciting than the odd excursions into the crypt of St Mary’s Church on Belfort Road, which was all that was left after the building had been hit by a bomb.

I have no idea if the subterranean passages had been used as an air raid shelter, only that for a brief period it was a place for an adventure for the kids of the neighbourhood.  We would meet up, share a candle and descend, always expecting to discover the unexpected but finding nothing more than the scanty evidence of a tramp’s stayover.

What marked out all of these games was that they were not solitary affairs, and like so much of what we did, they were played out as a group, which is always how adventures should be.

Location; London and Manchester

Pictures, Piccadillly, A Dawson,1941, m04013, Portland Street, Manchester, 1941, m04871, courtesy of Manchester Libraries, Information and Archives, Manchester City Council, http://images.manchester.gov.uk/index.php?session=pass and remaining pictures, 1957-2009, from the collection of Andrew Simpson

Lost and forgotten streets of Salford nu 42 Chapel Street in the 1980s .... or not

This one I like.

I could go on about the composition and the the mix of the old and new but will just say that John Casey captured Chapel Street perfectly.

That said I thought it was from John's 1980s collection but a debate which has ensued suggests I may be out by a decade and a bit which all adds to the fun.

And to help clarify things, from Steven Robertson,"those Mercury Vapour Street lights were removed in 1972".

Location; Chapel Street

Picture; Chapel Street, circa 1980s or not, from the collection of John Casey

Never stop asking the family questions .........

It might seem a daft suggestion .... but if you don’t ask the questions about what aunt Mabel did in the Land Army or cousin Eric’s time as a sushi waiter in Greenwich, the stories will be lost forever.

Mum, circa late 1940s

Trust me, over the last decade I have told myself off countless times for not asking about the family.

Of course when you are young there are too many other things to do, added to which your parents will have been busy with going to work, bringing up the family and just getting by, and so like as not never get round to telling you the family history.

And research is no substitute for the original stories which might be embellished but often come with photographs, letters and all sorts of old stuff.

I have spent years pulling together half forgotten stories which with the passage of sixty years I had come to believe were invented, only to discover that they were true.

All of which leads to the day mum and dad got married. We, were not even sure they had been, but yesterday the certificate arrived, which showed they were married in 1952, three years after I was born and three years before my twin sisters came along.

Dad, date unknown

And there hangs the gapping void, because there are no pictures, no stories and no one left to ask the questions, like, did they all go back to Lausanne Road, fall into the Swiss Tavern or took tea and cakes in Jones & Higgins.

Of the two witnesses, one was Uncle George and the other an M. A. Barlow.

If never occurred to us to ask Uncle George and despite hours of searching all I know is that M. A. Was Mary Ann Barlow, was old enough to vote in 1952 and lived at 18 Gairloch Road.  Not much I know.

Now given I now live in Manchester, I have made an appeal for anyone who has a period picture of the Camberwell Registry Office and access to the local papers of that year to scan the list of marriages for the twenty second of March, 1952.

I doubt after a passage of 67 years the appeal will yield anything but you never know.

Mum in Rhyl, date unkown

And it is not about wanting to add a shedload of dates and names to build a timeline, just the curiosity of wanting to know a bit more about mum and dad and in particular a moment in their lives which in turn is about wanting to tell their story and through that story add to our own sense of family.

In the meantime I am stirred to tell my sons of their London family and by extension spread the stories amongst my nieces and nephews and anyone else who wants to know.

Just so they don’t have to ask the questions which no one can answer.

Location; Our family


Pictures; Mum & Dad, 1940s-50s, from the collection of Andrew Simpson

Making stories out of our histories ……….

Young Clara, date unknown

Now the title could quite easily have been reversed to “making history out of our stories”, and both are at the heart of a new project to record the memories of Chorlton people which will go along way to addressing the traditional history books.

These were full of the tales of the great and good, along with the not so good and the very bad.

 It was a style of history which didn’t just forget to record the lives of working men and women, but actually didn’t even recognize them.

At best they appeared only as walk on parts, left nameless, viewed as insignificant and at worst were mentioned as “the mob” the humble peasant” or "the unwashed majority”.

And yet Caesar would not have achieved his victories, Hannibal have crossed the Alps, and countless generals down the ages without those who cooked the meals, dodged the bullets and carried the baggage.

Harold and Alma at the seaside, circa 1930s

They were the people who “lived out little lives in great times”, and their contributions are equally important and deserve to be heard.

And that brings me back to an exciting new initiative.

“The Story of Our Lives is a community project which will bring together older people who want to share their stories, lessons and memories, with a group of voluntary writers who are keen to listen, learn and record what they hear.

Once a week for a month, local people who may not otherwise have met, will come together over a cuppa , have an enjoyable chat about a key theme and then together, work towards creating an anthology of tales that preserves and celebrates the memories shared that day. 

There has been so much support already for this project in terms of time and energy given. 

Here are a few examples (there are many more): Chorlton Good Neighbours have kindly partnered in the organisation of this; Chorlton Arts are also helping to promote and support the work and Topping Publishing Productions have offered to help edit, illustrate and get it ready to send off to the printers. 

The Simpson/Goldsmith christening, 1981

Most vital of all, story tellers and writers are giving their time for free to create the content. It's a thoroughly inspiring project to help co-ordinate.

HOWEVER, one thing that doesn't seem to happen for free is printing! We want to print enough copies of this book so that all the participants can get one to keep as a memento of their contribution and that costs.... money!

By donating even £2 to this cause, you will help create something of lasting importance to our community. 

If you donate £5 or over, you can receive your own copy of the finished book as a thank you”.* 

So there you have it, follow the link, make a donation, and look for details of  the Stories of Our Lives community writing project, Chorlton.

Shopping for bargains, 1979

Pictures; Young Clara, date unknown from the collection of David Harrop, Harold and Alma Morris at the seaside, circa 1930, courtesy of Jean Gammons, the christening, 1981 and shopping for bargains, Ashton Under Lyne, 1979, from the collection of Andrew Simpson

*Stories of Our Lives community writing project, Chorlton
https://www.justgiving.com/crowdfunding/thestoryofourlives?utm_id=107&utm_term=n524ZpW6w&fbclid=IwAR3iDZqlrdrZh9XfvZZ7f-5T6sZ4IlLMgDCcSTozIiuJTCrouV6BkfpimbE

Remembering the Battle of Britain ................ part 3 Churchill’s speech to the House of Commons, August 20 1940

“Never in the field of human conflict was so much owed by so many to so few.”

It is the line from Mr Churchill’s  Battle of Britain speech  that everyone remembers and of course gave us the  title the “Few”.

It was a memorable speech delivered at a critical moment in the Battle of Britain and until now I have never read the entire thing which is a shame.

More so because there is so much more about Fighter Command and those who flew off over Germany in Bomber Command.

So in the midst of the famous quotation there is  “The gratitude of every home in our Island, in our Empire and indeed throughout the world, except in the abodes of the guilty goes out to the British airmen who, undaunted by odds unwearied in their constant challenge and mortal danger, are turning the tide of world war by their process and devotion. ............ All our hearts go out to the fighter pilots, whose brilliant actions we see with our own eyes day after day, but we must not forget that all the time, every night, night after night, month after month, our bomber squadrons,  travel far into Germany find their targets in the darkness by the highest navigational skill, aim their attacks, often under their heaviest fire, often with serious loss, with deliberate, careful discrimination and inflict shattering blows upon the whole of the technical and war making structure of the Nazi power.”*

Now Mr Churchill was not held in high regard in our home.  True there was a respect for him as a war leader but memories of his role in the miners’ strikes earlier in the century and his opposition to the demands for colonial independence led to a more balanced view of this politician.

Added to which mother never forgave him for what she saw as his decision to send her brother to the Far East just as Singapore was to fall to the Japanese.

Uncle Roger never returned dying just a tad past his 21st birthday in a Japanese POW camp.

I have yet to do the research on the decision to send those men East but like mother  cannot forget his opposition to the Labour movement but it would be churlish and unhistorical not to recognise his contribution to winning the that war or his ability to express in a few simple sentences the resolve to prosecute it to victory.

Picture; cover of the speech given by Winston Churchill in the House of Commons, on August 20 1940, from the collection of David Harrop

* from the speech given by Winston Churchill in the House of Commons, on August 20 1940,