The beginning of the end is underway for our tenancy of this particular part of the world. We are moving later this year to Deeper Dorset which, for me, is a homecoming from these foreign parts of Southern Wiltshire.
An honourable completion of our lives here is a matter of importance to me. When we arrived on December 18th. 1987 the house was in a perilous structural condition. Without our work here an interesting pile of old brick, tiles & quoins would provide an attractive, ruinous feature set in a fine garden. Now that 90% of our programme is complete, the new tenants have enough work left to add their own stamp; and this without fearing that a fierce gust of wind might put the roof through the bedroom ceiling en route to the cellar.
So, we leave a property originating in 1599, modernised between 1700-1702, & travel west to our new home: built in 1681 with an addition of 1725. The DGM office is being relocated nearby, & packing has begun for this too. These two moves enable our creative future to connect with us & come savagely online.
Meanwhile, more boxes.
20.03 I am trying to wish Uncle Bill a happy birthday but he isn't answering the `phone. Bill's 85 today & his real name is Alfred George Fripp. When he visited here, with Uncle Charlie & Sally, 2 years ago I asked him: "Why are you called Bill when your name is Alfred George?". He didn't know. Aunt Betty, who is older than Bill but younger than Arthur Henry (my father), might know. According to Bill & Charlie (youngest but one, 7 older than Maureen) Aunt Betty is the one who knows best our family history.
Aunt Betty was in service at my home in Witchampton (1980-87) between 1931 & 1933, when my Grandfather Austin (Sergeant Major in the Royal Marines & survivor of Gallipoli)) lived in the cottage by the church. Betty lived in an attic bedroom 50 years before I did. Uncle Charlie has just called to accept an invitation I made to the family members to come for tea & inform me on Fripp family history.
Uncle Bill, as Alfred George Fripp, was a Parcel Goon in the German POW camp where The Great Escape (as in the movie) took place. Although Bill was not an escapee, he was involved in the planning. To this day, he doesn't talk about his experiences as a prisoner of war.
Uncle Bill was a navigator in the Royal Air Force & married Vera in the month that war began: September 1939. They had their honeymoon in my parents about-to-be becoming marriage bed - Arthur & Edie married in a Wimborne Chapel on Christmas Day 1939 at 8.00 in the morning. In October 1939 Bill volunteered for a suicide reconnaisance mission over Germany: no weapons on board, to travel light & fast. His `plane was shot down, he landed in a potato field near Aachen & spent the next 6 years as a POW. Another crew member, Alec, lost a leg. Bill & Alec remained close friends until Alec died some years ago. During the 1960s & 1970s they went fishing in Poole Harbour with my Father on Dad's boat, Alec with his artificial leg.
Uncle Charlie is himself a fisherman. Sitting by a Dorset river waiting for a fish to visit is, by Charlie's standards, a fast & exciting event. A true Fripp, Charlie spent most of his life looking forward to retirement. When the Southern Electricity Board offered him early redundancy, it was as if Christmas had come early.
The history of my family is fundamental in providing me with a sense of orientation, continuity, & perspective. Apologies to those who find this less interesting than parallel computing, the possibility of silicon-based life forms & organic computers.
Now, to try Uncle Bill again.
"When we recognise a fault in others, we recognise a fault in ourselves."
