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IN THIS ISSUE

• Arthur Pay leaves London for duty on the south-east coast
• Dick Monaghan has a jaundiced view of modern-day service
• Gerrit de Leeuw and his wife hike near the Assiniboine Lodge
• Verda and Stanley Cook visit the New Westminster quay
• Don Henderson sends us the legend of Frank
• Barbara Wear forwards the story of the killer biscuits
• Miriam Ockenden suggests a website showing cool old cars

Arthur Pay becomes a member of a rescue party to support the ARP:

WHAT DID YOU DO IN THE WAR, DADDY?

Early in 1943 the authorities had another bright idea of forming a mobile reserve of rescue parties in the South East Region which could be used to reinforce the ARP organizations of the coastal towns of Kent and Sussex. There were frequent reports in the radio news bulletins of enemy air activity off the south-east coast.

Five or six of the personnel at China Inland Mission, including three conchies, Laurie Palmer, Peter Webster, and I, volunteered, although there was an element of compulsion here because the local authorities were required to provide men to staff the new units. There were several non-conchies who took the opportunity to get away from their wives and families.

Charlotte had continued to work for Waterlow´s during this time but with increasing animosity from the staff there, particularly from those whose husbands were away in the services while her husband was comfortably at home. Hitler was engaging his forces more and more in the Russian campaigns and the British contribution to the war effort on the Western Front was in bombing the German towns. Waterlow´s obtained the contract to supply maps of Western Europe for this purpose and when Charlotte refused to handle the work, she was dismissed for misconduct (defined in an industrial sense). She went to the Labour Exchange for work and was welcomed with open arms when she said she was willing to do nursing.

In June 1943 she went off to train at Guildford and I went down to Newick Park in Sussex in one of the four mobile columns set up in the south-eastern region.

Newick Park was the country residence of the Joynson Hicks family in the beautiful Sussex countryside. The house was set in extensive parkland with a large lake and country walks. There was a punt on the lake and fishing, mostly roach, but one of the men managed to get a large pike. I remember being in the punt in the middle of the lake when the muster bell was rung, and I had great difficulty in getting back to the house, donning uniform, and getting on parade.

There were about 150 or more personnel and each squad was equipped with full rescue gear, including ladders, stretchers, and a mobile workshop.

At the time I was a keen cyclist and put my name down to be a motorcycle despatch rider. However, when the allocation of jobs was made, our squad was on fatigues and I was spud bashing, so I never did get a chance to motorcycle.

Newick Park House was very beautiful, as I said before. I suppose it was about eighteenth century. At first we were billeted on bunk beds in the house itself, but shortly afterwards the huts at the rear of the house were completed and all the erks were transferred into them.

This was a considerable comedown after the previous luxury. There were about 50 men to a hut, each of which was partitioned with breeze block screens allowing just room for two bunk beds and four upright cupboards, one for each man. The ablution block was at the end of the hut with WC urinals and showers.

There was no provision for ventilation except the windows, and in order to obtain air and avoid showing light during the blackout, we extinguished all the electric lights at night so that we could take down the blackout screens and open the windows. This meant that everything had to stop at the same time, including talking and reading. A frequent catch phrase of, "Goodnight, Pay," was addressed to the room in general when I wouldn´t stop talking.

There was one disastrous consequence of the removal of the blackout when one of the men who had been drinking wanted to relieve himself. He had worked out that if he got up, turned left, took so many paces and then turned left again he would finish up opposite the urinal. There was a tremendous shemozzle when he turned right instead of left and peed all over another man as he lay sleeping in a lower bunk bed.

I remember being annoyed that the men were all cramped up in these huts, whereas the officers of the unit spread themselves out in the luxury of the house, although their contribution for accommodation from their wages was the same as the rest of us.

The whole unit was under the control of a Colonel Penn, a retired Indian Army officer, and there was an adjutant and five or six group officers, kitchen staff and matron, and two clerical staff, both female. The officers took their meals separately and had late dinner, but always avowed that they ate exactly the same food that was served to the men.

I took an active part in the organization of social activities and arranged the issue and collection of a library of books. I was also trained in the use of a cinematic projector that was supplied to the unit, although we didn´t get much of a choice of films.

To be continued.

Dick Monaghan writes about the problems encountered in dealing with

THE HIRED HELP YOU GET THESE DAYS

What is there about me that makes store managers think I´m the ideal customer for their trainees to practice on?

All I wanted was a bag of popcorn at the local movie. A wisp of a girl with a blank expression stared at my money, then looked at the keypad of her electronic cash register as though it were the instrument panel for an alien spaceship.

This did not involve counting change, mind you. That´s an art long buried in pre-history. The machine would have done that for her, but she couldn´t decide which key to push just to initiate the transaction. She disappeared into the murky depths behind the counter. After what seemed like 10 minutes, she reappeared with another, slightly brighter-looking woman who screwed up her face, took one scathing look at the keypad, and punched in the winning combination. No one said a word.

My daughter came up with this one: she once had a coupon for a free geeting card. She took it to the store, picked out a greeting card and a postcard, for which she intended to pay. The clerk said she would have to pay for the greeting card and would get the postcard free.

"No," my daughter said, "I have a coupon for a free greeting card. I intend to pay for the postcard."

The clerk became condescending: "It´s like when you go to a restaurant where you have one free meal when you order another of equal or greater value. You have to pay for the most expensive."

"Do you mean," my daughter said, "that if I did not have the postcard, I would get the greeting card free, with the coupon?"

The clerk nodded.

"Then all I have to do is put the postcard back, get the greeting card free, then come back in the store and buy the postcard?"

The clerk nodded. The manager by this time had overheard, came over and told the clerk, "Just take her money for the postcard and give her the greeting card. I´ll explain later."

Gerrit de Leeuw writes about their four-day, three-night stay at

ASSINIBOINE LODGE

To view a larger image of any of the pictures in this story just click on the picture. The larger images will take some time to load because of their size, but they are spectacular!

For the BC people, you can take credit for this one because it is just inside the BC border along the continental divide. The lodge is administered by BC Parks. The lodge has a history all the way back to the start of CP railways´ cross-country promotion. They built it along with all the hotels to promote cross-country travel at its infancy.

It is now run by people who have lived there for the last 23 years and are doing a marvellous job welcoming and introducing interested people to the great ´Outdoors´. They and their family show an enthusiasm for outdoor living which is rubbing off on guests who visit. The lodge only closes for two months a year. Sadly, they are getting a rough ride from BC parks. Their lease is up in less than two years. The lease was up for bids and though they were the only bidders, BC parks refused their bid. They even offered to do the necessary maintenance on the lodge. In my view BC parks would do well to lease the place for $1 to these people. In the past 23 year they have provided an excellent service and given many people the greatest outdoor experience one could have.

For you who are not familiar with Assiniboine Lodge, it is a lodge about 65 km from Canmore into the Rocky Mountains. One drives 41 km into the mountains along beautiful Spray Lakes, starting at the area where the 1988 Winter Olympic were held. There is a helicopter pad near the end of the lakes from where we flew in. The lodge is located about 28 km from the trail head and can be reached by hiking in. There is no electricity. Light is provided by propane lamps.

The lodge faces Magog Lake with Mount Assiniboine as a background. Behind Magog Lake there are several other lakes which we hiked into during our stay. At Maggot Lake there is a mountain campground with sandy pads for the real outdoor people. It is a good half-hour walk from the lodge to the campground through some beautiful terrain. One could walk back and forth all day. With the changing clouds and light, one never sees the same views twice. The views remain spell binding every time one visits.

The name "Assiniboine" is native. It roughly translates into ´steam boiler or pit´, and is derived from the way our native people made steam before we spoiled their tranquil way of life. They dug a hole in the ground, filled it with water, and put in hot rocks. Mount Assiniboine is like any other mountain peak, often shrouded in light or dark clouds, hence the name Assiniboine.

The helicopter ride in was only about 20 minutes, but very enjoyable and another new experience for an old couple. The helicopter took six people (one in front beside the pilot) plus the pilot. We met a Japanese couple who did not speak very much English. I arranged with the other folk that they could take turns on the way in and out for the front seat. I could see that it did not please two American ladies I overheard saying that they wanted the front seat, but I cut them off at the pass and suggested that it was only fair for the folks who came the farthest for them to have first choice. Not much they could say or do about it without embarrassing themselves. We were told that is was up to each group to decide who got the front seat.

There were several people at the pad who just took the flight to get to the campground for a camping/hiking experience. The lodge and cabins can hold a limited number of people. The helicopter made seven trips back and forth. We were in the third group so it was not a long wait. As soon as we got into the lodge, a guide was ready to take us on the first three-hour hike to Windy Ridge. Hiking is what we did for the next two days; even on Wednesday morning before we returned we enjoyed the last short hike. Of the hikes we partook in I could not pick a favourite one. All hikes with their views were equally spellbinding. I have heard it said that the Rocky Mountains are like 50 Switzerland´s rolled into one.

To be concluded.

VERDA AND STANLEY COOK VISIT VANCOUVER

I had the great pleasure of meeting Verda and Stanley Cook and their friends, Catherine and John Ruby, at the New Westminster quay during their stay in Vancouver. They later walked along the boardwalk beside the "mighty" (muddy to locals) Fraser River, and Verda told me later that she had never seen fuschia trees before - in Ontario they are hanging plants that grow in baskets. Now she understands why people ask her about pruning their fuschias.

They travelled from Ontario by VIA Rail, and Verda kept careful notes so that when she has a spare moment or two after they return home she will be able to tell us about their holiday. They were enthusiastic about the train trip, as she will tell us at a later date.

Don Henderson reminds us of

THE LEGEND OF FRANK

A man walks into the street and manages to get a taxi just going by. He gets into the taxi, and the cabbie says, "Perfect timing. You´re just like Frank."

Passenger: "Who?"

Cabbie: "Frank Feldman. He´s a guy who did everything right - all the time. Like my coming along when you needed a cab, things happened like that to Frank Feldman every single time."

Passenger: "There are always a few clouds over everybody."

Cabbie: "Not Frank Feldman. He was a terrific athlete. He could have won the Grand-Slam at tennis. He could golf with the pros. He sang like an opera baritone and danced like a Broadway star and you should have heard him play the piano. He was an amazing guy."

Passenger: "Sounds like he was something really special."

Cabbie: "There´s more.... He had a memory like a computer. Could remember everybody´s birthday. He knew all about wine, which foods to order and which fork to eat them with. He could fix anything. Not like me. I change a fuse, and the whole street blacks out. But Frank Feldman, he could do everything right."

Passenger. "Wow, some guy then."

Cabbie: "He always knew the quickest way to go in traffic and avoid traffic jams, not like me, I always seem to get stuck in them. But Frank, he never made a mistake."

Passenger. "Mmm, there´s not many like him around."

Cabbie: "And he really knew how to treat a woman and make her feel good and never answer her back even if she was in the wrong; and his clothing was always immaculate, shoes highly polished too - he was the perfect man! He never made a mistake. No one could ever measure up to Frank Feldman."

Passenger: "An amazing fellow. How did you meet him?"

Cabbie: "Well, I never actually met Frank."

Passenger: "Then how do you know so much about him?"

Cabbie: "I married his widow."

Barbara Wear forwards this reportedly true story, which Snopes says is an urban myth:

KILLER BISCUITS WANTED FOR ATTEMPTED MURDER

Linda Burnett, 23, a resident of San Diego , was visiting her in-laws and while there, went to a nearby supermarket to pick up some groceries. Several people noticed her sitting in her car with the windows rolled up and with her eyes closed, with both hands behind the back of her head.

One customer who had been at the store for a while became concerned and walked over to the car. He noticed that Linda´s eyes were now open and she looked very strange. He asked if she was okay, and Linda replied that she had been shot in the back of the head and had been holding her brains in for over an hour.

He called the paramedics, who broke into the car because the doors were locked and Linda refused to remove her hands from her head. When they finally got in, they found that Linda had a wad of bread dough on the back of her head. A Pillsbury biscuit canister had exploded from the heat, making a loud noise that sounded like a gunshot, and the wad of dough hit her in the back of the head. When she reached back to find out what it was, she felt the dough and thought it was her brains. She initially passed out, but quickly recovered and tried to hold her brains in for over an hour, until someone noticed and came to her aid.

Linda is a blonde but I´m certain that is irrelevant.

WEBSITES

If you are considering a gift for a child this Christmas, have a look at this site. For every basic laptop bought as a present, another laptop will be given to a child in a third world country - a real two- for-one gift that gives twice: http://wiki.laptop.org/

Miriam Ockenden forwards the URL for a site that shows the cool cars we drove in the 50s and 60s:

http://objflicks.com/CarsWeDrove.htm

"A person without a sense of humor is like a wagon without springs - jolted by every pebble in the road." - Henry Ward Beecher