history

PC 341 Tradition – Just the Way It Is

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Traditionally two stick orderlies led the 1000 officer cadets onto Old College Square at the Royal Military Academy Sandhurst for the end-of-term parade. That’s me on the extreme right!

I don’t think I have personally contributed to the rich fabric of our traditions, rather pompous to think I might have done, but the late Queen’s funeral and more recently the new King’s coronation have reminded me just how deep tradition is imbedded into the way we do things in the United Kingdom. Seems a long time ago now when Charlie Wilson and I were ‘Stick Orderlies’ and formed the guard for the Inspecting Officer for the Commandant’s Parade; in fact December 1966! Tradition at Sandhurst dictated everything.

In a constitutional monarchy the coronation of a new sovereign (Note 1) is a hugely important event, a time when tradition dictates so much of what happens and we the public marvel and gawp in equal measure.

Unless you’re involved …… like the current Leader of the House of Commons, Penny Mordaunt, who had to carry the Sword of State, weighing 3.6kgs, for nearly an hour – keeping it upright of course! (Note 2)

Unless you’re involved …..  like Charles who, as King, placed his hands on a bible from the C6th: the Augustine Gospels are regarded as the most precious and important medieval manuscript to survive in England. Then tradition had it he had to be dressed in the colobium sindonis, supertunia and girdle, a sort of solid gold overcoat before being given some spurs, representing bravery and knighthood, the bracelets of sincerity and wisdom, the Sovereign’s orb, the Ring of Kingly Dignity and the rod of Equity and Mercy.

Caitlin Morran of The Times wrote it reminded her of the end of a TV game show called Crackerjack, when kids had to hold an increasing load of prizes and cabbages. I think the ‘Glove of God’, looking remarkably like your average oven glove, was the last straw! No wonder Charles looked rather overwhelmed by the whole occasion.

Unless you are involved ….. like the Archbishop of Canterbury who played an important role, having earlier put his foot in it saying he thought the public should swear ‘allegiance to the new king’ – sort of ‘touch the forelock’? In 2023, I don’t think so!

And each to their own, but I personally find it difficult to believe that the chrism or holy oil used to anoint the king came from God. I would prefer to understand that our upmarket Waitrose had a special offer, or maybe they bought it at the King’s grocer Fortnum & Mason, but I do know it was vegan.

Other snippets of information that intrigued me? The Roman Catholic prelate Vincent Nichols became the first of his office to play a part in a coronation since the Reformation (1517-1555). The Chief Rabbi, Ephraim Mirvis, reminded the congregation that in 1189, when Jewish leaders came bearing gifts to the coronation of Richard Coeur de Lion (Note 3) they were stripped, flogged and thrown out of the abbey. Fortunately we have a different view in 2023. And you have heard of King’s Troop, Royal Horse Artillery? The ‘king’ in this case was George VI and the troop provides gun carriages for state funerals and uses its 13 pounder guns to fire salutes on State occasions. Apparently, at the moment, all the riders are female, as is the Officer Commanding.

As I dutifully watched the King’s Coronation Concert in the back garden of Windsor Castle, on the Sunday evening of that weekend, I was reminded of the overheard conversation between two American tourists. As a Boeing 747 (so that dates it!) roared overhead on its way to landing at London’s Heathrow airport, one turned to the other and yelled:

“Why did they build the castle so close to the airport?” (Note 4)

And never one to miss an opportunity to have fun, our rabbit Francisquinha (see PCs 172, 217 & 331) managed to appear above the castle holding on to dozens of drones!

It goes on! Next week, on July 5th the new King & Queen will be presented with the ‘Honours of Scotland’. The oldest crown jewels in Great Britain, they were first used in the coronation of Mary Queen of Scots in 1543, then in 1707 put away in a chest when Scotland was joined to England in The Union.

The newspaper says they were ‘rediscovered by Sir Walter Scott (and others?) in 1818’. Brief descriptions such as this create incredulous thoughts! What? Stuffed in the attic, in a cellar, in someone’s bothy, these priceless items wrapped in some cloak or blanket. And who told Scott where to look? Ah! History huh!

But at the end of the coronation, seven thousand of the troops who had taken part marched into the grounds of Buckingham Palace and formed up in long ranks on the grass; not easy marching in time on grass. Rifles were laid on the ground, headgear was removed and as the new King and Queen arrived at the rear of the building, the Sergeant Major in charge of the parade gave the order:

“Three cheers for His Majesty. Hip! Hip!”

……… and the sound of thousands of voices shouting ‘Hurray’, three times, reverberated around the grounds, over the roofs of  the palace and down The Mall to Trafalgar Square.

Watching it on television produced a lump in my throat, the slight wetness in the eyes and the thought: “Yes! Wonderful! We do this sort of thing really well. That’s tradition.”

Yes! That’s tradition.

Richard 30th June 2023

Hove

www.postcardscribbles.co.uk

PS At a rehearsal for the King’s Official Birthday Trooping the Colour Parade, one of the bandsman succumbed to the heat. The accompanying photograph pictured him horizontal on the parade ground; it looked as though he was still trying to play – probably a flat note!

Note 1 For instance, Victoria in 1838, Edward VII in 1902 (delayed a month because of acute appendicitis), George V (1911); Edward VIII’s was cancelled due to his abdication and his brother George VI was crowned instead in 1936; then Elizabeth II in 1953.

Note 2 The weight of the sword was eased by placing its hilt in a small pocket at the bottom of a sash around her shoulders.

Note 3 Richard 1 (1157 – 1199) also ruled as Duke of Normandy, Aquitaine and Gascony. His statue is outside the Houses of Parliament.

Note 4 The building of Windsor Castle was started by William the Conqueror in 1070 on some high ground overlooking the River Thames. It was completed 16 years later.

PC 410 Memories of Sandhurst (Continued from PC 408)

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Britain has been a Christian country seemingly for ever and religion plays a crucial if understated role in the conduct of war, both at a personal level but also at an organisational one. One of our Captain instructors was a lay preacher and, on a weekend’s adventurous training exercise, led a small Sunday morning service – in the middle of a wood, in the rain. One comment has always stayed with me: ‘There are no atheists in a slit trench.’ Fortunately, I have never been in an operational slit trench, waiting to ‘go over the top’, but understand how those who were might have prayed to some higher being. At Sandhurst every Sunday we paraded in front of the Commandant and then marched off across the square to the chapel.

Nine hundred male voices singing hymns would lift anyone’s spirits and the memory of kneeling in the pew for the final minutes, quietly murmuring ‘Eternal Father, Strong to Save’ to the tune Melita by John Dykes, still brings goose pimples to my neck!

If you were tall and reasonably good at drill, you might be picked to be a Stick Orderly, as were Charles Wilson, Edward Armitage, William Burrell and myself; four of us out of 225 officer cadets in our intake, Number 39. (See PC 341 Tradition June 2023). On ceremonial occasions we stood at the four corners of the Inspection Dias, although I am not sure how effective my stick would have been in protecting the Commandant!

Prior to the Commandant’s Parade on a Sunday morning, the four Stick Orderlies would join him and his family for breakfast in the extremely large house that went with the job. I was a Stick Orderly for a year and recall that, after breakfast and before we need to get moving, we would gather in the Games Room in the house’s basement and compete on his Scalextric set. Such fun, and far removed from our next task, the tradition of escorting him and the Adjutant to where the other 886 cadets were lined up for inspection.

I was assigned to Burma Company in Victory College, one of three colleges making up the Academy. The other company names in Victory were Alamein (North Africa 1942), Rhine (1944), and Normandy (1944). Old College represented the past glories of Dettingen (1743 War of Austrian Succession), Waterloo (1815), Inkerman (1854 Crimea) and Blenheim (1704 War of Spanish Succession). New College companies reflected the First World War with Ypres (1914), Somme (1916), Gaza (1916) (Note 1) and Marne (1914). The organismal structure today is different, the number of companies reflecting the total number of officer cadets under training. Company names now include ‘Falklands’ and ‘Borneo’.

There is something fundamental to being a soldier, being capable of using weapons in times of war. Later I would serve in artillery regiments equipped with medium artillery, the 5.5in howitzer and subsequently the 155mm self-propelled M109, but at RMAS it was the self-loading rifle (SLR) and the general-purpose machine gun (GPMG), both using 7.62mm ammunition. I gained my marksman badge for the GPMG, taking in instruction like a duck to water ….. and it’s all about the breath! We were tested at various times, for instance after a 10-mile speed march, and we developed the habit of keeping one’s ‘small arm’ (aka personal weapon) close and clean. Obviously out on exercise or on the firing ranges, not in a classroom learning about Chemistry for instance. I highlight Chemistry as I had failed it twice at ‘O’ Level and I need to pass it. The lecturer was more interested in teaching us about his passion, seeking out the runners and their form in some horse race. We learned his techniques, lost a lot of money and I passed my Chemistry examination!

I have written that academic studies took up more than 50% of our working day. Having followed the science route in my choice of A Levels, I joined the ‘Special Maths and Science’ set, a pass ensuring my place at university a couple of years after commissioning. Non-science subjects covered International Relations, War Studies and Military Law. The latter is designed to “maintain order and discipline within the armed forces, and to ensure they can carry out their duties effectively. It covers a wide range of offences, from minor breaches of discipline to more serious crimes such as murder and rape.” As a commissioned officer, for minor offences I was ‘judge and jury; for more serious ones there’s a Courts Martial system, run by the Judge Advocate General’s Department.

One Easter holidays some of us volunteered to become military parachutists. I asked Crichton a week ago, who was also in Burma 39 and with whom I have kept in touch, who else was there, apart from him. “Sorry! I suffer from old git syndrome and simply can’t remember. Pity!” Anyway, twenty or thirty of us went off to some RAF base, I think Brize Norton as that’s where they are trained today, for three weeks. During that time, we learned exit, flight and landing techniques in large hangars with mock-up fuselages, completed three jumps from a balloon tethered at 800ft and a further five from a DC8/9 aircraft, the last one at night. Back at Sandhurst we wore a little lightbulb badge on our uniform to signify our proficiency, joined The Edward Bear Club (see PC 28 Balloons, Bacteria and Bloating December 2014) and jumped out of an aeroplane over Hankley Common near Aldershot for a summer picnic – called ‘The Teddy Bears’ Picnic’, obviously!

There will be a Part 3

Richard 25th October 2024

Hove

www.postcardscribbles.co.uk

Note 1 The Middle East was fought over during the First World War and that arena of conflict was recognised by Gaza Company. The land borders we see today were laid out in the Sykes-Picot agreement of 1916, created by the French and British, with tacit assent from Russia and Italy. It defined their mutually agreed spheres of influence and control. Over 100 years later it remains a troubled and unsettled part of the world.

PC408 Memories of Sandhurst – The United Kingdom’s Royal Military Academy

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Towards the end of my teenage years, I wanted to be an architect …… but architecture was going through a difficult time and my stepfather suggested I join the British Army. His thought was that by the time I had spent three years or so serving Her Majesty, architectural opportunities might be better; I did 20 years!

To gain entry to the Royal Military Academy Sandhurst (RMAS) I had to attend the Regular Commissions Board, then located in Westbury, Wiltshire, to be assessed!

Fortunately I passed the various physical and mental tests, including the ‘speak for 5 minutes about … a milk bottle’!

The transition from boy to man, girl to woman, is, for some, complex and unnerving, for others it’s like water off the proverbial duck’s back. Everyone’s experience is unique, can never be otherwise and it could be forced upon one through the diktats of family life, the loss of a parent for instance, or tribal customs very early, but for most it happened after one’s 16th birthday; nowadays I sense it’s much earlier – more’s the shame! Of course there are those who never really grow up, still maintaining a childish outlook on life, the Peter Pans. The syndrome, used to describe those adults who are socially immature, refers to people who have reached an adult age but cannot face their adult sensations and responsibilities.

The Royal Military Academy (Note 1) turns boys into young men, girls into young women, ready to be deployed into combat should that be necessary, ready to lead. Nowadays the course is a year (Note 2) but in 1965 it was a two-year course mirroring and, in some respects, equalling the first-degree courses at many universities. The Academy had four intakes of Officer Cadets at any one time; commissioning took place in December and July. Some 60% of our time was spent on academics, the rest on learning our new craft, the military and the art of warfare (Note 3).

Our neighbour Meryl, an avid reader of my postcards, suggested I wrote something about my memories of the two years I spent at RMAS. Why, I am not quite sure; maybe she wanted to find out why I am how I am (?) but I doubted whether, in 1000 words or less, I could encapsulate my time growing, from teenager to adult, from schoolboy to Army Officer. Maybe I would need two or even three PCs? It was a disparate bunch of teenagers who formed up on the Victory College square as Burma Company Intake 39 in September 1965 and included three from overseas, Sid Sonsomsouk from Thailand, Ngambi from Uganda and Jo Nakamet from Kenya. No one was sure what we had let ourselves in for. It didn’t take long to find out!

How would I describe the first six weeks, when the days began very early and ended very late, when others dictated what you did? Challenging? Draining? Character building? Probably all of the above and more besides. A good example was ‘Changing Parades’, when we had to appear in the corridor outside our room in one form of dress, be inspected with infringements resulting in press-ups, before going back and changing into another form of dress – from full combat gear, to Service Dress, to PT Kit (Blue Blazer, Blue shorts, White T-Shirt, White ‘plimsols’ (Does anyone know what these are?)) to Parade Ground Uniform. Our rooms had, during the whole process, to remain immaculate. The instructors would scream and shout at any visible laziness or inattention. Faced with an external threat (the instructors!) we all began to coalesce into a group, safety in numbers and focusing our hate on our instructors. I think this was where the military saying ‘Kit on! Kit off!’ comes from.

Within the first month one of the platoon was suddenly diagnosed with leukaemia, disappeared to the Military Hospital in Aldershot ….. and died two months later. 

That’s me, in the bottom right-hand corner.

I have written before how the experience of becoming proficient at drill, in marching in time, swinging the appropriate arm, showing off our skills and being part of something, belonging, wanting, gets imbedded within one. Imagine being on parade with another 889 officer cadets, moving in formation to the familiar marching tunes, bursting with pride. That’s a great memory, acknowledging the hard work that preceded it, to get to the required standard. For those who have never had the privilege and opportunity, your life is missing something!

The main Sandhurst parades started at 1100. There were always little niggles, so the Academy Sergeant Major, a chap called Phillips, the most senior non-commissioned officer and otherwise known as ‘God’, would insist we would be lined up on Old College Square at 1030, to ensure there was no last-minute panic. Old College Square was a 10-minute march from New College Square, so College Sergeant Major Murphy, Irish Guards, (‘Spud’ behind his back, but never to his face!) insisted we were ready to leave at 1000, as there were always little niggles. Burma Company Sergeant Major Hewlett, Coldstream Guards, insisted we formed up for him at 0930, as there were always little niggles. Staff Sergeant Rooney, a Welsh Fusilier, insisted the platoon for which he was responsible formed up at 0900, as there were always little niggles. This is probably where the phrase ‘5 minutes before 5 minutes before …..’ originates.

(to be continued)

Richard 11th October 2024

Hove

http://www.postcardscribbles.co.uk

Note 1 Naval Officers are trained at the Royal Navy College Dartmouth and Air Force Officers at Cranwell

Note 2 A new term started last month with 288 Officer Cadets joining CC 243 for the 44-week course. There are 40 international cadets from 23 countries as diverse as Columbia and Kazakhstan. Of the 248 British cadets, just over half were educated in the state sector, 80% are university graduates and the average age is 22.

Note 3 The War Studies Department was run by John Keegan. The recent obituary of Duncan Anderson, who took over as its head in 1997, had an interesting snippet!  Keegan’s successor was a chap called John Pimlott, who had died after two grenades he picked up during a battlefield tour in France exploded in his study at home.

PC 512 Does it Matter?

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Talk about choosing a title for some weekly scribbles with the opportunity to range far and wide! Maybe I should simply focus on personal issues like, for instance: ‘Do you insist on the loo seat being left down?’ OK! Immediately we are divided between those of you who call the ‘water closet’ the loo and those who call it the toilet! Or you might be confused and use the term ‘lavatory’ which, if I was being pedantic, is ‘a fixed basin with running water’ but can be used to refer to the whole room with a toilet (aka loo) and basin. We had a lunch party last week and the loo seat and lid were left up, left down, just the lid up ….. despite us having one of those soft closure lids! (Note 1) I hope our guests smiled when they saw that we buy our loo paper from ‘Who Gives a Crap’!

Doesn’t matter, does it, what you call it? And sitting down with friends for lunch, it doesn’t matter whether you call the piece of material to protect your clothes a napkin or a serviette, does it? Providing it’s material not paper!

It doesn’t matter how you perform a yoga posture – we are all different mentally and physically and no one should make any judgments. It simply does not matter – until the ego taps you on the shoulder and asks why you haven’t…..! And if you believe that the practice of yoga, hot or not, could be ego-free, try it yourself. You might even encounter a group ego!

Recently there have been television crime dramas based in Bristol and Belfast, hot on the tails of one about Brighton’s police force and how they cope with the mayhem that others see as ‘having a night out’! The latest Belfast series covers migration in Northern Ireland, overlaying the still-simmering religious divide.

It reminded me of the current ‘stand-off’ between Northern Ireland’s Orange Order (Note 2) and the people of Drumcree. As Max Hastings, writing in The Times, says: ‘The Orange Order wants to demonstrate its claimed legal entitlement to stage a sectarian march through an overwhelmingly nationalist housing estate in Drumcree.’ It mattered in 1857 when a government report stated: ‘The Orange system celebrates its festivals …. which lead to violence, outrage, religious animosities, hatred between classes and, too often, bloodshed and loss of life.’ Nothing seems to have changed in over a century and to those of us who live in Great Britain it’s anachronistic in the extreme. Surely time to abandon such wilful provocations as the Drumcree march and realise how much this would matter for the greater good?

Last month one of my postcards was titled ‘Communication’ and this month we have had another example of poor communication …… and it matters. The British Museum in London is exhibiting the Bayeux tapestry for the first time since it left these shores for France in 1080 …. and the 70m long display has attracted thousands of people wishing to view it. The exhibition has presumably been years in the planning, but no one seemed to anticipate the potential number of visitors. Long queues developed, not helped by people staying too long in front of the exhibit – clearly not allowed or imagined! They could have installed a moving walkway which would have helped.

But the lack of communication was obvious when early this month they had to close the exhibit to the public as they were hosting some corporate event. These things don’t happen overnight ….. so why didn’t they block out entrance to the public months ago? Some people travelled a long distance only to be told they would get a refund of the ticket – but no recognition that the British Museum’s poor organisation and communication had led to other nugatory travel and hotel expenses. Reminded me of the Hotel Fasano in Rio de Janeiro. There had been no warning that, during our short stay, the roof-top swimming pool would be closed for a corporate event. We the poor public are second best to corporate money. But timely communication would have helped.

I did come across a new item some months ago and thought ‘good for you’. Having been through the difficulties and agony of divorce, I was interested in the story about a woman whose second divorce cost both her and her husband £80k. It prompted her to start offering divorcing couples a cheaper option than the adversarial one that lines the pockets of solicitors and lawyers. She had clearance from SRA, but lawyers with a vested interest in the current system complained and she was up before a judge for offering unqualified advice; she could have gone to prison! Financial reductions in the state-funded Legal Aid budget have reduced the number of cases it can support from 180,000 to 10,000. The judge recognised there had to be a better way for Joe & Jill Public to access affordable legal advice and suggested she continue. A victory for common sense.

And, of course, it matters when you buy a bunch of fresh Basil and two days later it looks like the flopped ears of a hare. Last week I thought there must be a better way of keeping it fresh. The solution is to place it in a container with a little water, and a plastic bag over the top, essentially creating a little moist greenhouse. The last leaf was as fresh as the first.

And in the wider context of life, nothing really matters, however much we agonise about this and that.

Richard 9th October 2026

Hove

www.postcardscribbles.co.uk

Note 1 I hadn’t intended to mention this, but I scribbled about loo paper in August 2015 (PC 47) and followed that postcard with one about ‘The Loo’, with the famous Mr Crapper, in November that year (PC 54). I could email these to you as they are time-expired on WordPress.

Note 2 After King William of Orange (King William III) who invaded and secured Ireland for the Protestant crown by defeating the Catholic King James II in the Battle of the Boyne in 1690.

PC 503 The Lanes and North Laine, Brighton

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My parents moved from Bath to Sussex in the mid-1950s and eventually settled in the village of Balcombe, twenty miles north of Brighton. Given the paucity of excitement in the nearest town, Haywards Heath, apart from the Perrymount Cinema which showed up-to-date films (Note 1), it was inevitable that Brighton provided more interest. There were regular trips to the Theatre Royal on New Road (Note 2) …..

…… to watch pre-London plays. Today, seventy years later, it presents comedy, musicals, cabaret and children’s entertainment. We also went to the annual Christmas ‘Ice Spectactual’ at the rink at the bottom of West Street. The steam train from Balcombe took 20 minutes … in the summer holidays a day on the beach involved the train from Balcombe then a walk down to the beaches of Hove, always less crowded that those immediately south of the railway station.

My brother and me, circa 1958

It’s the same today; day trippers heading straight down to the sea, hugger mugger on the beach with others, while a little walk West would give them more space!

I think the most interesting parts of the city, apart from the Royal Pavilion, built between 1815 and 1822, are the North Laine, at one time Brighton’s worst slum – a laine was an open plain divided into sections for farming – and The Lanes. The latter are essentially located in what was the village of Brighthelmstone, bounded by West Street, North Street, East Street and the sea on its southern edge.

We have to thank King George IV who, as the Prince of Wales, first came to Brighton in 1783 and put the town on the map, establishing its first ‘Season’. He later commissioned the Royal Pavilion and his annual visits encouraged a building spree that defines Brighton’s architectural character today. Georgian buildings such as the Old Ship Hotel (circa 1794) rub shoulders with whitewashed Regency and early Victorian townhouses.

The Lanes are a delightful collection of little streets and pedestrianised squares, often linked by twittens. A twitten is an old Sussex-dialect word for a narrow path or alleyway, which serve as short cuts. From North Street running south into The Lanes is Meeting House Lane, a twitten said to be haunted by the ghost of a nun who was walled up alive after eloping with a soldier. There’s another good example of a twitten just up from our yoga studio, which is situated in the old Rabbi’s house behind the synagogue on Middle Street.

Yoga In The Lanes’ entrance to the left of the Synagogue

Ship Street Gardens features C19th cottages and a famous fig tree and links Middle Street with Ship Street.

Whilst both The Lanes and the North Laine have many independent shops, The Lanes has a greater preponderance of chain outlets, such as Penhaligon’s, Molton Brown, Lush, Russell & Bromley, Loake, and Flying Tiger.

It is also well known for its jewellers and antique shops, fashion boutiques, cafés and restaurants, including The Ivy and its Asian sister.

English’s of Brighton, the city’s famous seafood restaurant on East Street, is located in three former fishermen’s cottages. Reviewers highlight the fresh rock oysters as a ‘must try’. The city’s Town Hall is located on Bartholomew Road and is where Celina and I got married on 20th August 2016. The building also houses the Old Police Cells museum.

You could easily while away an afternoon, drifting from a coffee house such as Café Coho, exploring Meeting House Lane, Brighton Place, Market Square, winding down its narrow lanes, ….. stopping and being surprised at, for example, The Duck House!

To access the North Laines you cross busy North Street, up New Street with the theatre opposite Pavillion Gardens and a glimpse of the Royal Pavillion, on past The Brighton Museum & Art Gallery and the Brighton Dome, once the Prince Regent’s stables and now a venue for concerts, dance shows, and plays and the headquarters of the Brighton Festival. Here you find a patchwork of small streets lined with quirky shops, drawing crowds of locals and tourists alike.

When I wanted someone to fashion two little loops of leather, I went to Clever with Leather in a basement workshop on Tidy Street.

Writing of leather, if you are fastidious about not using animal products, you could buy some shoes or boots from The Vegetarian Shoe shop on Gardner Street.

After wearing contact lenses for decades, the removal of my cataracts meant I could indulge in some funky reading glasses. Bromptons Opticians, further up on Gardner Street, has just such frames, but I needed a second mortgage to buy these:

Having a sweet tooth, I get drawn to Caramella on Kensington Gardens where you can buy old-fashioned confectionary. Fancy a humbug or Sherbert Lemons or do you prefer liquorice; the latter in many shapes and lengths and, if you ask nicely, you can pick and choose your favourite ‘Liquorice All Sorts’ – for me the little pink and blue buttons!

On Trafalgar Street you can find just the right hat for you, assisted by knowledgeable staff who know about face shapes, and can advise accordingly.

Every city suffers from Grafitti and Brighton is no different, but this mural on Bond Street is surely in a class of its own.

Brighton has just celebrated Pride and I am reminded yet again how inclusive this city is, quite extraordinary! There is a tangible acceptance of people being who they want to be, and no one bats an eyelid, apart from visitors unused to such genuine displays of confidence. I saw these women walking up Gardner Street and thought ‘why not?’

The Lanes and North Laines are so worth a visit!

Richard 7th August 2026

Hove

www.postcardscribbles.co.uk

PS If you come to Brighton don’t forget to say hello to the European Herring Gull, otherwise known as: “Oi!” as it swoops down on your fish ‘n chips.

PPS Brighton is 9,219kms (5,729 miles) from Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

Note 1 Opened in 1936, it had a little dance hall and a café, as well as the auditorium for screening films. You could smoke in the rear rows! It closed in 1972 and the building demolished in 1984.

Note 2 It had opened in 1807.

PC 499 Évora, Portugal

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Évora in the centre, Lisbon to its west.

A snippet cut from The Times’ Travel Section over a year ago says that ‘Portugal’s south-central Alentejo (note 1) region is an underrated spot for fine red wine and ‘porco preto’, that’s pork from acorn-fed black pigs. The walled city of Évora is a charming base from which to explore. Between outings to hilltop Monsaraz and along the Alentejo Wine Route, queue to try that pork inside Botequim de Mouraria or to scoff typically simple local dishes such as dogfish soup at rustic Fialho. Évora also has temples and a skull-filled Chapel of Bones to explore, while its markets offer ewe’s milk cheese.’

The DK Guide adds: “The town rose to prominence under the Romans and flourished throughout the Middle Ages as a centre of learning and the arts. It was a popular residence of Portugues kings but fell out of favour after Spain’s annexation of Portugal in 1580. Its influence waned further when the Jesuit university closed in the 18th century.”  Today in the C21st, students once again throng the streets, joined by visitors to this UNESCO World Heritage Site.

So, we went! Évora is about an hour’s drive east of Lisbon; by noon the temperature had reached 39C and it was baking! We had rooms in the Pousada dos Lóios, a hotel converted from the old Monastery of St John the Evangelist, which had been founded in 1485. Today the hotel’s bedrooms are the old ‘cells’ of ‘Cónegas Regrantes’ – although my little suite suggested there was a little luxury permitted!

Our first lunch was in a small restaurant, Luar de Janeiro, somewhere in the maze of tiny streets below the hotel.

I am not a fan of Alentejo food, or most Portuguese food for that matter, but I had to try the little ham, but not its accompaniment of goat, cheese and garlic rice.

Near our hotel stood the Roman Temple, thought to have been built in the 2nd or 3rd century AD.

In daylight it’s a glorious reminder of the deep history evident on the European continent. By night it’s altogether different; more ethereal.

The nearby square has some marble sculpture. I thought this was interesting:

I didn’t find out its creator and wasn’t sure whether the crack splitting it in two was intentional or not!

Some of the shops nestling down Évora’s little narrow streets sell cork products, for the Alentejo region in Portugal is the world’s largest producer of cork; for example, 30 million corks for the wine industry, per day. Hats, bags, purses, waterproofs, those cork mats for the kitchen and even a cork postcard!

Cork trees cover some 7000 sq kms of Portugal. Harvesting cork is a skilled business; mature trees have their bark stripped off every ten years or so, leaving the exposed wood raw and red. 

Most shops shut during the heat of the afternoon but the guide had highlighted a C16th church, the Igreja da Graça, on the top of which are ‘four muscular figures supporting globes. They are quaintly nicknamed Os Meninos’ (The Children). Despite the temperature, (Note 2) I had to go and have a look. The church is undergoing a major restoration and is covered in plastic sheeting. Fortunately, the authorities had stuck a photograph of what it looks like on the outside and I was able to identify Os Meninos; sort of ‘boys will be boys’?

You can make out the four old men, two left and two on the right

Later, back in the wonderfully cool hotel, we had dinner. I chose the ‘stewed peas and Alentejo tomatoes’ as a starter …. more out of curiosity than anything else, although when Nuno the waiter asked whether I wanted the poached egg with it, I was slightly nonplussed; I declined. However, I was completely gobsmacked to be served a bowl of lukewarm soup, complete with bits of pork!

‘Lost in Translation’

I am seriously not one to take photographs of what I am eating although this … took the biscuit! Their ‘orange pie’ for dessert was not a pie!

Beside the C15th church of São Francisco sits the Capela dos Ossos.

The largest and oldest ‘Chapel of Bones’ in Portugal, built in the first half of the C17th, is a space ‘that can only be understood within the context of the Catholic spirituality that originated it.’  The chapel holds the skeletal remains of some 5000 monks and others associated with the church … and has a rather strange invitation at its entrance: ‘Nos ossos que aqui estamos pelos vossos esperamos’ (‘we bones that are here await yours’)

I found it very, very odd, strangely mesmeric, these skulls and bones artistically laid out. I can imagine the chat between those who created it: ‘José, have you got a small skull, just need one to fill a hole?’ or ‘Carlos, do I place the leg bones in a fan shape, or shortest to longest?’ – just seeing them as pieces in some macabre display.

European walled cities have always held a fascination for me, be it St Malo in the northwestern corner of France, Dubrovnik in Croatia or Kotor in Montenegro. Carcassonne in southern France remains on my bucket list.

In Évora fragments remain of the inner Roman walls, whilst the C14th outer wall is very much in evidence, made in the 1640s into a major fortification. 

Water was carried into the town by the aqueduct, built between 1531 and 1537.

Today it’s used by the local water company to pipe water into the town; some 9kms of the old aqueduct still survive. Finally, you remember that marble sculpture near the hotel? With the sunset behind it ….

…. it reminded me of the lines from the song ‘As Time Goes By’ by Louis Armstrong ……. ‘a kiss is just a kiss, a sigh is just a sigh, the fundamental things apply, as time goes by.’  

Évora? Enchanting!

Richard 10th July 2026

Hove

www.postcardscribbles.co.uk

Note 1 The Romans valued this land ‘beyond the Tagus’ – além Tejo – for its wheatfields; grain was exported all over their empire.

Note 2 Only ‘Mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun’ wrote Sir Noel Coward (1899 – 1973)

PC 493 Force 136 (1)

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In my postcard ‘Five days in May’ (PC 484 March 2026) about my time as Battery Commander of 43 Air Defence Battery (Lloyd’s Company) Royal Artillery, I mentioned that my stepfather, Philip Thomson-Walker, had spent just over two months of 1945 in the Malayan jungle as part of Force 136. As I scribbled the note (Note 1), I thought it could become a stand-alone postcard, about Force 136. So here it is; actually, the first of two!

My divorced mother met Philip skiing in St Moritz in 1954 and one weekend he came to stay in the old servants’ quarters where we lived, on the top floor of No 15 Royal Crescent in Bath. As an eight-year-old I remember his pyjamas were made from an old camouflage silk parachute. They married and moved to Balcombe, some twenty miles north of Brighton, in 1955.

Like many of his generation he didn’t talk about the recent World War and his part in it, although the occasional nightmare and his bad back, injured in some hard parachute landing, were no doubt personal reminders, but somehow I knew he’d been part of Force 136, whatever that was! He died in 1993 aged 81. In 2002, some months before my mother died, I wrote to the SOE (Special Operations Executive (note 2)) Advisor in the Foreign & Commonwealth Office, at that time in the Old Admiralty Building on Whitehall. My enquiry was extremely timely, as nine days afterwards the office was officially closed, but Duncan Stuart (an SOE Advisor) came up with most of the information I needed to fill in the enormous blanks in my knowledge of ‘Uncle’ Philip’s wartime experiences.

He graduated from Clare College, Cambridge with a MA in Mechanical Sciences in 1934. On 2nd September 1939, the day before war was declared, he was granted an emergency commission in the Royal Engineers. Three years later he was posted to the Special Operations Executive where he used his technical knowledge to enhance SOE’s equipment and operational capability. In September 1944 he joined Force 133 which had responsibilities for operations in The Balkans. The Military Mission to Jugoslavia (sic) was set up to support the partisans led by Josip Tito, who would become President of Yugoslavia.

Second Lieutenant Royal Engineers September 1939 (aged 29)

Based on the island of Vis, opposite Split on the now Croatian coast, Tito’s partisans were assisted by the author Sir Fitzroy Maclean (See PC 391 Tales of Croatia June 2024). The latter was allowed to purchase a house in Korčula, not normally allowed for a foreigner.

In February 1945 Philip attended a JEDBURGH course in Market Harborough. JEDBURGHs were originally 3-man parachute teams first used for post-D-Day operations, to liaise with and to reinforce resistance groups in France. The three men were of British, French and American nationalities, one the leader, another the deputy and the third the radio operator. By now an acting Major, Philip was posted (see photograph) to Malaya as Patrol Leading Officer in Force 136.

Malaya had been overrun in December 1941 by the Japanese Army, which also took Singapore the following February. Before Philip joined, a Force 136 officer, Captain Freddie Spencer Chapman, had succeeded in carrying out offensive operations against the occupying Japanese for over three years, with the aid of fighters from the Chinese Communist guerillas. For more than a year and a half, he and two other members of Force 136, John Davis and Richard Broome, had lived in jungle camps with Chinese Communist guerrillas, traveling long distances through dense and difficult jungle, while often suffering high fevers caused by malaria, beri-beri, black-water fever, tick typhus and pneumonia. Somehow, they had survived. In his book ‘The Jungle is Neutral’ (1950) Chapman attributed his survival to the ‘basic rule that the jungle is neutral, that one should view the surroundings as neither good nor bad’.

A photograph of Freddie Chapman from Philip’s album

Although the top command of Force 136 were British officers and civilians, most of those it trained and employed as agents were indigenous to the regions in which they operated. Burmese, Indians and Chinese were trained as agents for missions in Burma, for example. British and other European officers and NCOs went behind the lines to train resistance movements. Former colonial officials and men who had worked in these countries for various companies knew the local languages, the peoples and the land and so became invaluable to SOE.

Philip’s black & white photograph of the ‘green hell of Malaya’. It was into this inhospitable landscape that Philip parachuted on 10th July 1945.

A year after the end of the war, Philip was made a Member of the British Empire (MBE). His citation gives an indication of what he did in Malaya:

“Major Thomson-Walker dropped into Selangor on 10th July 1945 to take command of a patrol established by Flight Lieutenant Robertson. His organisation and planned dispositions for offensive action were exemplary, and his ability and attention to detail under the rough and ready conditions of jungle life were exceptional. In covering the main North-South railway from Kuala Lumpur to Ipoh, he provided much pre-surrender intelligence on enemy troop movements, the value of which was enhanced by the fact that it was received from an area directly inland from the invasion beaches. As an organiser in Selangor, Major Thomson-Walker was outstanding amongst the Force 136 Liaison Officers, and the quality of his work is reflected in the praise accorded to his patrol on the occasion of an inspection in Klang on 11 September 1945 by the Supreme Allied Commander.”

Philip’s photograph album is full of grainy black & white photographs from his time in Force 136. First up, an indication that he didn’t land where he should have done.

To be continued …….

Richard 29th May 2026

Hove

www.postcardscribbles.co.uk

Note 1 On a trip to Belize I spent one night in the jungle: “Night comes early, and it was noisy, wet, extremely humid and hot.”

Note 2 The Special Operations Executive was raised in July 1940 on the orders of the Prime Minister Winston Churchill; its sole aim was to “set Europe ablaze”. It operated behind enemy lines to conduct espionage, sabotage, and reconnaissance, while aiding local resistance movements against Axis powers. 

Often referred to as Churchill’s “underground army,” the SOE’s unconventional warfare tactics and operatives profoundly impacted the war through a variety of dangerous, covert operations.