WISBECH - A FRIDAY PORTRAIT. No words, just pictures

JUST HOW RUN-DOWN IS WISBECH TOWN CENTRE? Pickwick sent out one of his emissaries for a cycle ride today to record for posterity some of the town's worst eyesores. One of his old colleagues had remarked upon the irony that the Constantine House wreckage formerly bore the name 'BELFAST', and that it did resemble something reduced to rubble by extremists during 'The Troubles'.

Given that some of the ruins are the result of arson, and the absentee owners could clearly not give three-fifths of five-eighths of …..well, very little, Pickwick does not seek to lay blame on our worthy Town, or even District elected representatives. The situation is way beyond their competence, influence, and budget. If the Town Team manages to win its £100K from Mary Portass, that would just about pay for a couple of hours time with a not very high-profile lawyer.

 
Are there such things as Compulsory Purchase Orders these days? Mr P believes that they must still exist, otherwise how could the controversial new London to Birmingham rail link ever go ahead? Leaving aside the strange notion that anyone should want to get to Birmingham any quicker than absolutely necessary, it must surely be possible for these Wisbech ruins to be bought with public money, and then sold off at a profit?

Wisbech's finest living journalist, the legendary Lord Elworthy of Probing-Deeply loves a good conspiracy theory. No grasping councillor is safe from his gimlet eye, no undeclared back-hander escapes his forensic mind. If things get a little quiet, then he might be advised to investigate this intriguing advertisement. Bon Nuit, mes enfants

TONIGHT'S UPDATE IS VERY SIMPLE. Just a video based on  Eric Gardiner and James Cole, two of the Wisbech men who died in the Great War, and whose stories were told in earlier blogs. The music is a lovely old hymn called 'Only Remembered'. The words were written by Horatius Bonar , an Edinburgh man, and the tune was composed in 1891 by the great American hymn writer, Ira D. Sankey. The hymn has been used in an episode of 'Sharpe' - the one where he goes back to Yorkshire, and meets his long lost brother - and also in the stage version of 'Warhorse'.

AFTER THE NEGATIVE RANT LAST NIGHT ABOUT WHAT SOME SCHOOLS HAVE TO PUT UP WITH, Pickwick is delighted to be able to report on something really positive happening in Wisbech. No committees, no working parties, no high profile press calls or soundbites - just someone actually getting on with a worthwhile activity.

DRAMARAMA is a children's group set up just over a year ago for youngsters aged from 5 to 14 years of age.

The club meets at the Rosmini Centre every Tuesday from 5pm til 6.30pm. It runs throughout the year with a list of social events during August and is ***TOTALLY FREE***.

The group are currently writing their next play - it's all about Pirates invading Wisbech from the River Nene!

They are  recruiting older members from the age of 9 years. Both boys and girls are welcome. For more information contact Annie Appleby at the Rosmini Centre on: 01945 474422 leaving a landline number.

In reply to a very good man, John Melton, who is a proper parent.

Kind words, John, but let’s be clear about something. You and Joy were devoted and supportive parents who wanted the very best for their kids, and actually believed in the good old-fashioned concept that people could ‘better themselves’. In other words, their children would learn useful stuff from teachers who knew useful stuff, which would mean that said children would not have to struggle like mum and dad did.

Sadly, there are ‘parents’ out there – sorry, I’ll rephrase that – there are adults who are legally responsible for children  - who hate learning, despise teachers, and would be only too pleased if their offspring graduate into the same kind of chain-smoking, work-shy, benefits-dependent apology for a citizen that they are.

Because these people are ‘unwaged’, ‘currently seeking work’ or whatever fancy euphemism you want to apply, they are instantly available during the school day to roar up to school in their nice cars so that they can eff and blind at school staff. How do they know when to come? Well, little ******* has an expensive mobile ‘phone which probably cost more than his form-tutor’s car, so he can let mum and, usually, mum’s current boyfriend know that that nasty Mr ******* has infringed his human rights, and assaulted his personal dignity by asking that he doesn’t eat his roast dinner with his fingers.

In addition, young ******* has to face the personal indignity of sitting a public exam. Your child and mine  probably had to do their homework, learn some stuff, and turn up to some revision classes which may have put you to some personal inconvenience, like picking them up from school. Yourself. No, not in a taxi paid for by local rate-payers, or driven home by the teacher whose car is worth less than your latest game console. Because ******* has been diagnosed as having some obscure ‘learning difficulty’, when he does his exam, he will have someone to read the question, someone else to write the answer, and probably a third worthy to whisper in his shell-like what the answer actually is.

But still, you are a voter. And there are more of you than there are of Mr Hamilton, the kind Geography teacher who gave up his half term to take your son on a school trip to the French Battlefields. And so, those awfully nice politicians who spend every waking hour pushing re-election leaflets through your letterbox respect your opinion. It is gold-dust; it is manna from heaven; they will discard the opposition from teachers, because they are a bunch of left-wing no-hopers who would have voted Labour anyway. No, we will have a continuing drive to castigate and belittle teachers, and we will employ a cadre of failed teachers, call them OFSTED, and give them the power to make or break schools, and to reduce teachers (who are human beings, and, usually care about the children in front of them) to dispirited, depressive wrecks.

As you may gather, I no longer work in education, but I wish my former colleagues all the love in the world – may their adversaries rot in the depths of hell.

HERE IS A SONG FROM THE GREAT WAR. It is 'Mademoiselle From Armentieres' sung by Jack Charman. The song was widely sung - and rudely parodied - by British soldiers. Click on the media player to hear the music.

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But they that fought for England,
Following a falling star,
Alas, alas for England
They have their graves afar.

And they that rule in England,
In stately conclave met,
Alas, alas for England,
They have no graves as yet.

 

THE BATTLE, KNOWN TO MILITARY HISTORIANS AS 'SECOND YPRES' was basically a German assault on several points of The Salient, and began with an gas attack on the French lines at Gravenstafel on April 22nd, 1915. While this gas attack was unprecedented and unexpected, it had been clear for some time to the British and French forces that some kind of assault was imminent. Therefore, there was intense activity right along the front line: trenches and breastworks were being repaired, ammunition and supplies were being carried up to the front with great urgency, and rest periods and leave for individual units was drastically reduced. It is obvious from Eric Gardiner's diary that he was having to write retrospectively, several days at a time, as he was enjoying less and less free time.

On the evening of April 20th, Eric, with a small carrying party from his Company, were moving through a communication trench south west of St Eloi. A letter from his best friend, Billy Cooke, tells what happened next.
"Eric and I were together when it happened. We were bringing up the rear of a small party on the way to an isolated little trench when he was hit in the thigh by a piece of shell. I dressed his wound as best I know how and did what I could to stop the bleeding, but it was a dark night and we were under heavy fire from the Germans. His leg was too badly shattered for me to carry him on my way back to a place of shelter, so I just waited with him for the stretcher bearers, but they never turned up…..Then, with the help of some Tommies from another regiment we carried him to the shelter of a little wood. The other regiment kindly lent me their own stretcher to carry poor old Eric on, but before he could be got to our dressing station, the poor chap died."

THIS LETTER WAS WRITTEN BY COOKE TO ANOTHER SOLDIER. He did write to Eric's parents, but spared them the harrowing details of Eric's death. He concluded,

"Eric and I were very much attached to one another, and I miss him very much indeed. When I came out of the trenches yesterday I visited his grave, but as it was in view of the German lines I was admonished for going there when I got back."

Eric was buried in the grounds of Elzenwalle Chateau, where a makeshift military cemetery had been established. The first permanent markers of British and Commonwealth war graves were sturdy wooden crosses, but long after the war ended, these were systematically replaced with the marble headstones more familiar to modern battlefield visitors. Incidentally, there is one of these to be seen inside the church of St Peter and St Paul in Wisbech. It was the grave marker of 1st Lt Anthony Crookham, the son of the Vicar of Wisbech.

The effect of Eric's death on his family was devastating. It was made worse by the fact that many of Eric's letters home had been published in 'The Advertiser' on a regular basis. Over the previous months, Frederick Gardiner, like all other editors across the land, had written a series of editorials in support of the war effort. Now, he had to find the words for the most difficult piece he would ever be called upon to write.

"Our sympathy, all the keener because tempered by experience, goes out to those families whose losses are reported in the casualty lists. The poignancy of such a loss brings the reality of the war to the very home portal, and shatters hopes long nursed..
The tendency is to lose sight of the main theme in the personally jarring note, but gradually one learns to sing the new song, realising that herein lies the important duty.
Also, while we mourn our losses, we can turn to the results achieved and find consolation in the fact that the sacrifice nobly given is not for naught. The fighting in the neighbourhood of Ypres (is) specially interesting in this district because of the presence of the Cambs Regiment, and others in whom we are interested…"

After the war had ended, the French and Belgian authorities realised that there were just too many tiny cemeteries scattered about the Old Front Line, and so the War Graves Commission set about the melancholy task of disinterring many of the bodies from these small cemeteries, and putting them all together in what were called 'Collection Cemeteries' Eric's remains were re-interred in Voormezeele Enclosure No. 3. The inscription on his headstone is echoed, in plural form, on the town memorial in The Crescent.

OF WISBECH, ENGLAND

GOD GAVE HIM A GREAT THING TO DO, AND HE DID IT

This account was sourced from a collection of Gardiner documents and memorabilia in Wisbech Museum. It seems that Eric's death made the relationship between Frederick and the older son, Grahame, somewhat strained. Later in the war, Grahame was conscripted to fight, but successfully appealed to the Wisbech Tribunal ( a panel set up to review appeals against conscription) on the grounds that he was running the local paper, and thus his work was too valuable at home.

There is a memorial to the Gardiners in Leverington Road Cemetery. The main column bears the names of Frederick, and his wife Amelia. On one of its kerbstones is a reference to Eric - " INTERRED IN A CHATEAU GARDEN"