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Showing posts from February, 2020

The Story of a Harvest Tea, 1945

Extract from “The Countryman” journal, Spring 1946 At the end of the casual workers’ season last year we had as usual our harvest tea. The “boughten” cakes must have been fairly good; and the bread and butter was helped down by some home-made preserves and potted meat.   Although it was a poor spread, things being as they are in the food line, our guests seemed to understand and enjoyed it…for decorations there were flags, and the words on a rather faded portrait flag stood out, “God bless Queen Victoria.” After the tea Harriet recited “The Boy Stood on the Burning Deck” and “Dare to be a Daniel”, and sang “The Bells of Aberdovey” and “Don’t Hang My Harry; You’ll Break His Poor Mother’s Heart.”   During the applause the board placed on apple boxes for a seat collapsed. There was a bit of a mix-up and it was agreed that Polly, who weighs 15 stone, should have a box to herself. Up to this time young Tommy had had 10 cups of tea and 15 cakes, and Jim had dropped...

Ode on a Thermot Urn

Virginia Graham is one of my favourite poets, though sadly she seems to be almost forgotten. I treasure my first edition of her only collection “Consider the Years”. Virginia was a contributor to publications such as Punch; she was a good friend of Joyce Grenfell and Celia Johnson among other well known names of the 1940s and her poetry collection is dedicated to Celia and her husband, Peter Fleming. “Consider the Years” is a series of poems inspired by Virginia’s experiences on the Home Front in World War Two. As a member of the WVS, it is inevitable that the collection will include a mention of the kind of the things that we associate with village and parish halls.  Here’s a lovely one about a tea urn, that gives a real flavour of her work: Ode on a Thermot Urn (With apologies to Keats) Thou still impure slave of thirstiness, Thou foster child of mutton broth and tea, How can a dictionary of words express The inspissated gloom you raise in me! What pu...