FOR THE FALLEN...

This is the Pilgrims Way, the long distance and very ancient footpath that leads from Winchester to Canterbury.   It passes through my bit of Kent and I took the photo above where the path hugs the lea of the North Downs in this part of Kent.  A little further in to our walk, the Pilgrims Way is crossed by another footpath and so we turned left and started to make our way up the slope of the North Downs.....

We came to a field and followed the path until it came to a gateway which led to the higher ground......

And just beyond the gateway something caught my eye......

And I wondered what it could possibly be in this remote spot a long way off the beaten track.   So we investigated by tramping through part of the hillside that is covered with wild thyme and brambles and it became apparent that what we were seeing was some kind of memorial.   It turned out to be something rather special and so I took this close up photo which revealed the story.......

And a little research when we got home showed that Tommy Pinkham was the Squadron Leader of the Royal Air Force No. 19 Fighter Squadron and the youngest Squadron Leader in the RAF at the age of just 25.   According to the Fighter Command Combat Report dated 5th September 1940, eleven members of the No. 19 Fighter Squadron, lead by Squadron Leader Pinkham, took off from RAF Duxford at 09.47 hours to patrol Hornchurch, an area east of London near the Thames Estuary.   Forty Luftwaffe Dornier 215 bombers escorted by 40 Messerschmitt 109 fighters were spotted approaching from the west.   At 10.15 hours Tommy and five others attacked the bombers with the other five aircraft in the squadron attacking the Luftwaffe fighters.  Squadron Leader Pinkham was last seen engaging three Dornier bombers but became a casualty, crashing on this spot on this Kentish hillside, where the memorial is maintained to remember his selfless heroism.

It seemed especially poignant to come across this memorial during this year which marks the 75th anniversary of VE Day.  And so we left this now very special place which now has the peace and serenity befitting its surroundings, thanks to men like Tommy Pinkham and his colleagues, to whom we owe so very much.

No. 19 Fighter Squadron at RAF Duxford - Squadron Leader Tommy Pinkham in the centre.

A SONG TO REMEMBER...

Among all the `news` assailing our senses just now I was sorry to learn yesterday of the passing of Tim Pigott-Smith, one of our more notable actors, perhaps best remembered, by me at least, for his portrayal of Francis Crick in the BBC production of `The Race for the Double Helix.`   And his quiet passing at just 70 reminded me of just how many personalities have left us in the past few months.  A long list, of course, ranging from David Bowie to Graham Taylor and so many more besides.  And on a personal note, I have lost some good friends, some from childhood, some from my army days and some from work - the most recent just a couple of short weeks ago.

And a favourite piece of musical excellence came to mind; one which also recaptures memories of the loss of George Harrison and Roy Orbison.  The Traveling Wilburys gave us some of the very best that `popular` music can offer, perhaps the best of theirs is `Handle with Care,` showing the unique talents of George and Roy as they take leading parts alongside Jeff Lynne, Tom Petty and Bob Dylan.   The words of the song have a particular poignancy and seem especially appropriate on yet another unsettling day.  Here it is.......

LOSING FRIENDS..

It`s not turning out to be a good month.   Three weeks ago, we went to the funeral of a good, close friend who lived just up the road and who was the same age as me.   He had been through too much suffering with serious illness and although he seemed to be on the road to recovery, the stresses and strains of the months of treatment and medication became too much for him to overcome.   He is sadly missed.

And today, another untimely passing of someone I had known since his school days.   He spent most of his adult life in the service of the local community, unfailingly guiding the affairs of the local council with his sharp mind, his determination and his willingness to help so many people.   Like our other friend, he also suffered the restrictions and inconveniences of long term illness but his community spirit never faltered and it was fitting that he was awarded the OBE in recognition of his lifetime of service to our community.

Given his local standing, the tributes to him will be many and they will be heartfelt, genuine and sincere.   He too will be sadly missed.

A CREEPING MALAISE ?

The photo above shows a selection of Chelsea players wearing the now obligatory message-bearing tee shirts, limbering up before their game at Villa Park on Saturday.  Of itself it represents a sympathetic statement of Chelsea`s best wishes to Aston Villa captain, Stillyan Petrov, as he begins his battle with leukemia.   And who could argue with that?

Meanwhile, at Celtic Park, where Petrov played with distinction for a number of years, there were messages from the crowd, a minute`s applause and other forms of good wishes to Petrov as he begins the long road to a hopeful full recovery.   Even FIFA Prersident Sepp Blatter has tweeted his personal good wishes and I`m sure that similar outpourings of goodwill were on show at other grounds around the country.

A couple of weeks ago, we had the unnerving collapse of Bolton midfielder, Fabrice Muamba in a game against Tottenham at White Hart Lane.   Given the circumstances, the game was abandoned and replayed last week and all those responsible at White Hart Lane were rightly commended for the manner in which they dealt with a genuine emergency.  We again saw the obligatory tee shirts and an outpouring of emotional hoping and praying for Muamba`s full recovery which, thankfully, appears to be going well.

But what has struck me about these and other similar incidents is that we are, as a nation, suffering from the creeping malaise which divides those like me who cling ever hopefully to the traditional British virtues of restraint, reserve and resilience;   from those who react to such incidents with sentiment and self indulgence, for whom no tragedy is so small that they cannot resist making it all about them, rather than the victim of the circumstances.

Now of course I hope that Fabrice Muamba, Stillyan Petrov  and their friends and families can come through these troubled times for them and secure a full recovery from these dreadful events.   But there are countless thousands out there who are in the same situation and I see no tee shirts and hear no minute`s applause for them. I should know - I`ve got a funeral of a good friend to endure on Thursday.  


But those countless thousands should know that they too have the best wishes of those of a quieter and more restrained disposition, whilst the more self-indulgent merely await the next opportunity to be part of the drama.

  HIGHS AND LOWS..

The weekend`s sporting events have provided mixed fortunes both on and off the field of play.   The highs for me included yet another hat trick by Rickie Lambert Southampton`s Goal Machine (RLSGM) in a dramatic 3-2 victory over Millwall at the New Den, to keep Saints on top of the Championship table.

Meanwhile, Mr. Slightly`s Gillingham went to Whaddon Road, Cheltenham, and came away with an impressive 3-0 win to keep their play-off hopes alive in League Two.   And our street`s fleet footed wideman, Scott Wagstaff, laid on a pinpoint cross for Bradley Wright-Phillips to slot home in Charlton`s 1-1 draw away at Scunthorpe.

On the wider sporting front, I was pleased for Wales to clinch the Grand Slam for the third time in eight seasons but, of course, the occasion at Cardiff yesterday was marred by the genuine sorrow at the passing of Mervyn Davies, almost certainly the greatest Welsh captain and Number 8 there has ever been.   His death once again brought back memories of those unforgettable Welsh teams of the `70s - JPR, JJ, Barry, Gareth, the Pontypool front row, Phil Bennett, Delme Thomas, Ray Gravell, Merv the Swerve himself and all the rest who made that such a special time for Welsh Rugby. Watching the Welsh team yesterday I almost had the feeling that they were determined to win it for Merv....and it was wholly appropriate that they secured their triumph after this tragedy.

Yesterday`s other low point was obviously the collapse of Fabrice Muamba after 41 minutes of the Tottenham/Bolton Cup match at White Hart Lane.   As I write, 24 hours on, Fabrice is in intensive care and remains anethsetised in a critical condition.   Like everyone else, I wish for his recovery and I wish his friends and family well in these desperate hours of uncertainty. 

Football has, for once, behaved impeccably and great credit is due to the emergency personnel at White Hart Lane, to referee Howard Webb for taking the only decision open to him by abandoning the game, to the 36,000 fans at the ground for their understanding, their respect and their dignity in harrowing moments and to the officials of both clubs, who have acted with the good sense and restraint so often absent in the Premier League.

Most weeks, I`m unashamedly bullish about the escapades of RLSGM and his saintly chums, the unfailingly entertaining Gills and the progress of our street`s pacy flanker and the rampaging Addicks.   But this weekend has again reminded me that, however much I might care about football and the fortunes of Snopper Street`s teams, there are things which are much more important to care about.   And not just Fabrice Muamba, but all the others out there as well whose lives may be in the balance but whose friends and families hope and pray in the silence of anonymity.

WHAT IF ?..

The short, cold, wet days of December are not the best for visiting interesting places but yesterday I went to Southampton with my eldest son, where we picked up his daughter, my grandaughter, from University, had a nice lunch and then wondered what we might do in the remaining hour or two until darkness fell.

In the late 1940s, I lived with my parents at Hythe on the western shore of Southampton Water.   My father worked for BOAC at their flying boat maintenance base at Hythe and we lived in a cottage with a garden that went down to the sea.   I don`t know how he managed it but my father bought a car - a black Ford Popular (I think they were all black in those days) and I can even remember the car`s registration - CHY 624, which indicated that its first home had been in Bristol.

Anyway, on Sunday afternoons in high summer, we used to go for little rides either to seaside places such as Bournemouth or around the New Forest and I vividly recall that when I was about eight we drove to see the Rufus Stone, deep in the forest off the main A31 road from Southampton to Ringwood.   In those days the roads were very quiet and the forest seemed very mysterious to a small boy and I remember being almost spellbound by the significance of the Rufus Stone and the tale it told.

Years later, when my own sons were very young, we took them to see it too and at that time, possibly 40 years ago now, the location still retained its air of seclusion.   Yesterday, I went back there again on a bit of a whim but also with the excuse that as my grandaughter is reading history at Southampton University then perhaps a visit to a historic location might be forgivable.  Read all about the Rufus Stone here - http://www.new-forest-national-park.com/rufus-stone.html

So here we were on this cold, wet, drab winter`s afternoon just fleetingly visiting a place of historical significance and by no means doing it justice.... and a couple of things occurred to me. The first was the stark counterpoint between this historic location   and the endless noise throbbing down the forest glade from the traffic on the A31 - ancient and modern almost coming to blows.  

The second thought I had was to confirm the extent to which chance shapes people, lives and history itself.   What if Sir Walter Tyrrell`s arrow had not glanced off that oak tree and struck King William dead all those 900 years ago?   How different the history of England might have been and how different we all might now be as a result.   If we would be here at all.

I was alarmed to read of the passing of 76-year old Michael Faherty who was found dead lying on his back in his house in West Galway.   A detailed investigation into the cause of death offered no explanation other than that he was burned to death as a result of spontaneous human combustion. 

The inquest heard from `experts` who were certain that Mr. Faherty`s death had not been caused by a nearby fire, there were no traces of accelerants such as petrol and nothing to suggest foul play.   As a result, the coroner was `left with the conclusion that this fits into the category of spontaneous human combustion for which there is no adequate explanation.`

A tragic and baffling case all round but it got me wondering about ways to bow out from what is a baffling world.   And, as I have reched a certain age, I have begun to speculate as to how I might like to make my exit and I rapidly reached the conclusion that spontaneous human combustion is not for me, thank you very much.

Now I realise that my departure may not be in my own hands, so to speak, but nevertheless there might well be a few more preferable options that the fate which befell the unfortunate Mr. Faherty.   One might be to depart on the nest; another might be to wave goodbye on the golf course, possibly having just birdied the notorious par 3 sixth at Hever Castle. 

But I think the preferred option for me at least would be to bid farewell to this cruel world as the final whistle blows in the Champions League Final after the Saints have crushed Manchester United.   This option seems to be the one that might guarantee I`m still around for quite a while yet.   Suits me.

WAYS TO GO...

Our muse to the aged  Medical Correspondent`s `article` yesterday about the wellbeing of the elderly population got me thinking about what options might be available for ways to leave this world.  What also jogged my consciousness was a most unfortunate incident that occurred at St. Mary`s Stadium last Saturday.   Following Saints` narrow 1-0 win over Carlisle United, an elderly 85-year old Saints fan collapsed and died in the gentlemen`s toilet after the game.

 Now, I like other Saints fans was saddened to learn of this tragedy but, without in any way wishing to appear `indelicate,` the gentleman in question was able to depart in one of the three ways that I might find acceptable .  Being called to the great stadium in the sky in such a manner would, for me, be one of them, especially after a home win.  The second would be having just birdied the notoriously difficult par 3 sixth at Hever Castle`s Princes Golf Course (actually parring it would be ok - even a bogey might do.)   And the third would be to wave goodbye having been on the nest - an option which nowadays seems less and less likely now that the law of diminishing possibility has kicked in.

But there you go.   I do genuinely sympathise with the Saints fan`s friends and family but I wonder if he might not be looking down, smiling benignly and thinking that the nature of his departure could have been so much less memorable than it was.

NOTHING TO WORRY ABOUT..
Our Medical Consultant reports

I`m often asked by worried pensioners about the problems of getting older and I was recently  contacted by Mr. Snopper to ask whether it`s worth him carrying on with the health checks he has been having regularly up to now.  My answer was yes, of course, keep on having those vital checks because, as we grow older, so the chances increase of things going wrong, bits falling off and with loss of memory it`s easy to forget to make appointments and stuff like that.

So I was pleased to hear that Mr. Snopper has now just about finished his round of annual check-ups.   Reminiscent of MoTs for cars, he first saw his optician, who bears a striking resemblance to Nicole Kidman and it seems that Mr. Snopper`s eyesight is still as keen as ever, no doubt fuelled by his determination to feast his eyes once more on the fair Ms. Optician - an event he looks forward to each year.

Next, he had an audience with the Practice Nurse at the local GP clinic, who took a blood sample to test his cholesterol level and the functions of certain vital organs, along with a blood pressure test which proved `satisfactory.`  The results of the blood test won`t be known until next week, when they are returned from the Cavendish Laboratory in Cambridge.   This afternoon, he visited his dentist, who can`t be named for legal reasons, and apart from the odd filling, wash and brush-up, came away unscathed for another six months.  

 So you see, there`s nothing to it really.  After all, if Mr. Snopper can do it at his age, then so can anyone.    So I urge all my elderly readers to stop worrying, get a life and just be glad that there are people out there who can help you drift almost unwittingly into the dreamworld of your days which you will find are increasingly filled with delusion, bewilderment and a dull sense of detachment from the world around us.   Who could ask for anything more?