The following is no work of fiction and is told truly. It starts with the unexpected, but hardly unbelievable, it must be said. During the first week of March 2009, a council lorry and a van, complete with a complement of workers equipped with pneumatic drills, shovels and wheelbarrows appeared in the lane here at Woodcutts. They quickly went to work where holes were obvious in the road surface, dug and cleaned them out and refilled them with tarmac, consolidating same with vibrating plates. (These are not like dinner plates, but I don’t know what else to call them.)
The puzzle is WHY? Why have the council spent money on our lane, particularly the section known as ‘Between Gates’? Is something about to happen which has to be kept quiet for security reasons? For example, is our P.M. Gordon Bennett, going to entertain the new American president Mr. Alabama, and wants to show him some of the more beautiful parts of the U.K.? After all ‘Between Gates’ is a very special place and has quite a history.
Why, I hear you asking, is this part of the lane called by such an unusual name? It goes back to the days before cottagers owned motor vehicles and walked everywhere. The lane in question simply served six cottages and Champs Farm, the latter also had its own entrance from another lane to the north. Because the occupants of cottages did not need vehicular access, it did not matter that they either had to open gates or clamber over them to traverse down the lane. For this reason, the lane down beside the garden of the Manor Farm was not fenced on the field side, which meant that the land could be grazed right up to the garden wall, and of course the expense of a fence was saved. It simply meant that a gate either end of this section of the lane was necessary to ensure any animal grazing in that field could not wander. The section of the lane in question became known as ‘Between Gates’.
Now I hear you asking, why all this chattering about ‘Between Gates’? What interest can a short piece of lane have? The answer is that it was made famous by the late Shep, (Jock) Meehan. Who, some of you will ask, is Shep Meehan? Well, Shep was the Scottish shepherd working on the Rushmore Estate for many years, who spent his retirement at Woodcutts in one of the cottages mentioned above, together with his wife until her death and then by himself until his demise.
Shep or Jock, as his birth qualified him to be called, was renowned for his shepherding ability and by his liking of a wee dram, despite the fact that he was a diabetic which obviously cramped his style. He was a very generous man and loved company. Because of this, every Friday evening he took his wife to bingo in the village hall at Pimperne. This meant that while waiting for the bingo to finish, Shep had very little alternative but to wait in the Farquharson Arms, especially on dark, wet evenings.
One particularly dark and wet Friday evening in November, Shep waited patiently in the bar of The Farquharson Arms right up until closing time, so that his wife was not forced to hurry back from bingo. When he got to his car, she was waiting for him, seated inside, watching torrential rain beating on the windscreen. Shep put in the keys and turned them; nothing happened so he tried again but no response - the battery was completely flat. What to do? By this time the pub’s lights were out and the doors securely locked. Mrs. Meehan did not drive so it fell upon her to push. So in the pouring rain she pushed until the engine roared into life. Shep revved the engine, turned on the lights and wipers and made a slow journey up the Salisbury road taking great care so not to stall.
He turned off the main road and made his way up through Dean to Woodcutts and only stopped when he arrived at the first gate, at ‘Between Gates’. He waited for his wife to get out as she normally did and open the gate, after a short period he turned to her to see why she was not doing so. It was then that he realised why she wasn’t getting out. She hadn’t got in - he had left her at Pimperne in the pouring rain. He reversed up, turned round and made his way back to the pub, where his drenched wife awaited his arrival. She never forgave him for his mistake and as he survived her by several years, I hate to think what the reunion was like. This, of course, was the reason for ‘Between Gates’ being so famous, nothing whatsoever to do with Bill Gates.
So you see, every small place has a history, but you must now be brought up to the present by hearing what has happened and is happening in the countryside around here now.
What three wonderful days we have had, starting with Friday 13th March. On my journey to Shaftesbury I saw hawthorn leaves open at the bottom of the Zig-Zag. The previous Tuesday I had seen the same just south of Wimborne. On my return from Shaftesbury, just as I was reaching Tollard Royal, I was lucky enough to see five hares cavorting in a field to the north, in wonderful sunshine. They were milling around at great speed and every so often, two would separate off to involve in fisticuffs. On arriving back at Woodcuts, I saw my first dog violets in flower near the Manor. Then in the hedgerow of my vegetable garden I found white violets in flower.
Saturday morning was spent in the garden and the afternoon watching rugby. Sunday lived up to its name and was truly a sunny day when butterflies were about. Six beautiful, pale yellow brimstones visited the garden, one of which actually entered the summerhouse where Meg (Madge) and I were drinking coffee. It was rapidly joined by a large bumble bee, just one of several paying us a visit that day. Sunday was also a great day for English rugby, with the national team beating France by 34 – 10.
Other points of note in the past week have been the sight of skylarks at two different spots in the locality, and the appearances of both greater spotted and green woodpeckers in the area. Neither had put in an appearance for a few weeks. Previous to this date a single nut hatch visited our feeders on 15th of February and shortly afterwards Paul saw it next door. We haven’t seen it since. On the flower front, celandines were seen out for the first time on the south west facing bank at the end of the lane on 21st February, some three weeks later than last year. They like the snowdrops and now the daffodils, although being later, have put on a wonderful show. The snowdrops although a month later than previous years have been wonderful, perhaps the best ever since I have lived here.
I am sorry I have taken so long to write this, I hope you haven’t been kept waiting. At least I have not stopped for a coffee but I will be having one now. Thank you for your patience and reading to the end.
God bless you all.
4th Battalion, Dorsetshire Regiment, B Company, 6th Platoon
[Part 1]
When analysing the Allied victory of the Second World War, historians frequently remark on three crucial errors of judgement on the part of Adolf Hitler, though such errors were not necessarily recognised at the time. The first was the Fuhrer’s decision (in part having been persuaded by Herman Goering to allow his much vaunted Luftwaffe to administer the coup de grace) to halt his armoured divisions short of Dunkirk thus allowing the bulk of the British Expeditionary Force, along with thousands of French and other Allied forces, to be evacuated by the Royal Navy and a flotilla of small ships under appalling conditions from the flat open beaches that are a feature of this part of north-western France. Then, a year on and with plans for the invasion of the United Kingdom shelved (at least for the time being), Hitler committed his forces to war on two major fronts when he ordered the implementation of Operation Barbarossa (the invasion of Soviet Russia). Ultimately, this decision would have far more reaching effect than his misjudgement at Dunkirk but when in December 1941, in the wake of Japan’s attack on Pearl Harbour that drew America into the conflict, he declared war on the United States of America. Secretly, for none dare openly oppose their Fuhrer’s decisions, the senior generals at the heart of the German High Command must surely have realised that the promise of a Thousand Year Reich was coming apart at the seams and it would only be a matter of time before such dreams of unprecedented power would be dashed as the Allies co-ordinated their plans to reverse everything that had been achieved so far in Germany’s conquest for a Nazi dominated Europe.
It is now necessary to take a step back in time to the early hours of Friday, September 1st, 1939, when German armour and infantry supported by an umbrella of fighters and bombers rolled into Poland; the war that would engulf Europe and, eventually, most of the globe had begun. That same infamous day, His Majesty George VI put his signature to the order for the embodiment of the Territorial Army and, as a consequence of telegrams swiftly despatched and delivered, by nightfall officers and men of the 4th Battalion the Dorsetshire Regiment were in hastily ordered buses travelling throughout the county which by Saturday afternoon would disgorge their passengers at a camp set up at Weymouth. Some years ago, in conversation with the late Les Perrett, Les told me his call-up arrived by hand of the village constable as he attended to outside painting at the village school and it is likely that Harry Neave was also peaceably employed when his call to arms came.
For the better part of the next five years both would do their soldiering at various locations in the South of England and it was not until June 14th, 1944, a Wednesday, that orders were received at battalion headquarters instructing the 4th Battalion to proceed to France. Thus, the Bexhill camp was struck early the next morning and the “marching party” proceeded towards Southampton where they embarked aboard the Pampas during the 19th. Under normal conditions, the Channel crossing would have been made in a matter of hours but the weather conditions throughout the area in June 1944 were absolutely atrocious. The Normandy landings a fortnight earlier had been something of a miracle and even now as the 4th Battalion prepared to join the fray the advance out of the beachhead was quite limited.
Eventually, all was ready and the Pampas slipped her moorings only to steam into weather so horrendous that for the next four wretched days the ship could proceed no further than Spithead. Meanwhile, the battalion’s “vehicle section” had sailed two days previous from Tilbury and had been subjected to a constant barrage of shelling as it passed through the Strait of Dover. Eventually, their vessel arrived off Arromanches on the 20th only for further series of frustrating delays and it was not until the afternoon of June 25th that both parties were united a kilometre or two north of Bayeux. Twenty four hours later and in pouring rain the battalion set of in an easterly direction, halting between the recently liberated villages of Vienne-en-Bassin and Saint-Gabriel. To the south-east lay the city of Caen, one of the key objectives for capture on the day of the landings but still firmly held in enemy hands. Although far removed from the bitter trench engagements of the Great War the Battle of Normandy was no less intense with the Wehrmacht only giving ground after the hardest of battle and even then would counter-attack at every opportunity.
The battalion’s next move was southwards, crossing the main road from Bayeux to Caen and relieving a Canadian unit holding a rear area near the village of Putot-en-Bassin. All around them lay sickening evidence of recent heavy fighting; hundreds of dead cattle lay in the surrounding fields and the pitiful moans of cows heavy with milk but with no one to attend them made for a sombre setting.
It was not long, however, before orders arrived for the “4th” to advance southwards in the direction of Cheux where the 5th Battalion Devon and Cornwall Light Infantry were engaged in fighting off stiff German resistance which included tanks. Such was the gravity of the hour that B and C companies were placed under temporary command of the “5th”; Harry Newman and Les Perrett were now in the thick of war. At the same time, A Company and D Company moved off to the south as reserve companies for a counter-attack with Churchill tanks spearheading the thrust. In the hours that followed what is frequently described in military journals as “the fog of war” was all too apparent; tanks, infantry from other units criss-crossed the area until at last it was announced that 11th Armoured Division was forming up in readiness for a move towards Noyers. The banks of the River Odon were a mere stone’s throw away. Then came instructions for the two reserve companies to double up with their colleagues who were still under temporary command of the “5th”, while the battalion commander, Lieutenant-Colonel H E Cowie assessed the situation at Grainville where remnants of two Scottish battalions were astride the road. Throughout this tense period enemy shelling was almost continuous .
Shortly after midnight on the 29th, the 4th Battalion took over from the 5th Devon and Cornwall Light Infantry and by midday on the last day of June they had been joined by the 5th Battalion Dorsetshire Regiment and their near geographical neighbours, the 7th Hampshire Battalion.
Thus far, the “4th” had escaped lightly; a handful of men had sustained minor injuries but no deaths had been reported from within the battalion. This state of affairs would alter dramatically during the next fortnight as the 4th Battalion Dorsetshire Regiment was fully committed to the Battle of Normandy.
Note. I am indebted to G J B Watkins, author of From Normandy to the Weser (undated) from which the chronological sequence of dates has been taken.
A smile is something nice to see
It doesn’t cost a cent.
A smile is something all your own
And never can be spent.
A smile is welcome anywhere
It does away with frowns.
A smile is good for everyone
To ease the ups and downs.
A man phones the hospital and says, “Help, my wife is in labour.” The nurse says, “Calm down. Is this her first child?” The man replies, “No, this is her husband.”
If it’s called rush hour, why does everyone move so slowly?
Why is it called ‘after dark’ when it’s really ‘after light’?
Somebody complimented me on my driving today. They left a note on the windscreen. It said, “Parking Fine”, so that was nice.
You don’t learn anything by doing it right.
A man goes to the doctors and says, “I keep thinking I’m an AA man.” The doctor says, “I think you’re heading for a breakdown.”
Dark IslandI’m watching the dark island
In the moonlight’s gentle glow.
From scented cliffs, to the ocean below
I see the spirits of the rock
Who lived there long ago.
Their ancient hearts are beating
With the tide’s eternal flow.
Empty hillside dwellings,
A shattered window frame,
Tombstones from another time
Are all that here remain
Beside a restless ocean,
Beneath a flying sky,
Our island home is empty,
I hear the spirits sigh.
No more the running children,
No more are stories told,
The chimney now is smokeless,
The hearth is chill and cold.
But patiently I’m waiting as purple lupins blow,
While spirits tell me stories
Of their struggle long ago.
A lion, a bear and a chicken are discussing who’s the hardest. The bear says, “When I growl the entire forest runs for cover.” The lion says, “That’s nothing. When I roar, everything in Africa shakes with fear.” The chicken thinks for a while then says, “I only have to sneeze and the whole world panics!”
No-one is rich enough to buy back their past.
I was walking along the pavement and saw a sign that said, ‘Pavement ahead closed. Please use other side’. It really made me cross.
A toothless termite walks into a pub and says, “Is the bartender here?”
I love it when it snows. My garden looks like everyone else’s.
An envelope came through the letter box this morning marked “Please Do Not Bend.” I still haven’t worked out how I am supposed to pick it up!