A love letter from the past

As any of you who’ve read some of my previous posts will know, I like the chance encounters of life that can manifest in a series of events which become a story. As I described it previously “Stories are not just words. They are paths along which others may follow. They shape our world, and they live on long after we have gone.”

And this week I stumbled into just such an unfolding story. Its about life, and love, and war, and travel, and more love. At its heart is a beautifully, tenderly written letter, penned over a period of time (as evidenced by the changes of ink, shifts of hand position and types of paper) by a 91 year old man. Then sent off in an act of faith to a destination that he knows, but to a recipient he could not possibly know.

Our friends Dawn and Bruce own a thatched mill cottage in rural Devon. Thatched  cottages are not what anyone takes on unless they want to own a ‘living’ and ‘breathing’ entity. These old houses may look nice but they require a lot of maintenance and commitment. Dawn & Bruce don’t really feel they ‘own’ the house, but are simply another in a long line of ‘custodians’ who have lived here over several hundred years. They are very interested in the history of the house but have been unable to find out a great deal about some periods in its history, when it had some of its alterations and additions built, and who lived there.

We visited them recently and they showed us a letter they had just received out of the blue, addressed simply to ‘The Occupant’, XXXXXX Mill Cottage, XXXXXX, Devon. . (for obvious reasons some of the identifying details are omitted). It appeared to be from a previous occupant of the cottage and went as follows, carefully written in ink with a fountain pen:

In 1947 my wife Kathleen and I rented the cottage and while we were there an eighty year old gentleman came and rethatched it with straw and told us the rest of the thatch was three hundred years old. The front path was put there by French POW’s, 1812? The church in Crediton was similarly constructed.

I was not going to join my family at home. My sister Doreen and her baby lived in my parents bedroom her twin sister was in the army as a draughtswoman making maps for soldiers and agents. My brothers wife and baby lived in the girls bedroom and my parents lived in the living room. My brother was in the Fleet Air Arm and I was in the RAF as a pilot. Food and clothes were rationed. In September 1946 I met Kathleen and the seventh time we met was in church in Romford to be married. Romford was a country cattle market town in those days. Its part of London now and greatly altered now. We arrived at XXXXXX Mill Cottage in May 1947 to well water and and oil lamps. I worked in the Church of England school opposite the Church.

When the headmistress heard Kathleen on the telephone she asked if Kathleen was a qualified teacher to which I replied that she was. Kathleen was soon working in the girl’s school.

We surprised the farmers as marching the four miles to town over four small hills at 120 paces a minute and 22 inch paces. We were both ex-RAF. Kathleen listened to German tanks from El Alamein to Berlin and they have just made a monument to them.

At first we could not understand the Devonshire speech but became used to it, I taught PE on the village green. Kathleen taught five year olds. Mr Luxton was the headmaster and was the best I ever worked for until I became one myself. Many of our relations spent their holidays at XXXXXX Mill Cottage and I did a watercolour of it which hangs in this room now. We climbed the footpath to Posbury Clump to the Church there. I joined the Devon Regiment to take the Crediton Platoon of the School Brigade and had a camp in the woods behind the cottage. We slept in an old cottage in the wood. I had resigned from my work as an engineer at the Engineer-in-Chief’s Office in Finsbury Circus , a Civil Servant. It was a good job I did otherwise I would not have met my sweetheart Kathleen.

Eventually we obtained a flat in Searle St.I joined the Crediton Rugby Club and travelled about Devon. Before Kathleen taught in Crediton she went to Exeter and in the museum she saw a stuffed bird with whiskers and laughed loudly, as, to impress my pupils I had started a moustache.

In the summer I took eight boys to Exeter baths in a bus and marched military style through the town. One day in the bus on the way home a lady said to me “It’s disgraceful that Mr Luxton lets boys go to town by themselves.” Such was their good behaviour.

Encouraged by relations we went to Australia from Crediton and did very well especially in Tasmania. The staff and boys presented me with a lovely blazer with the Bishop on it. Its here with me now.

I had promised that we would be family less for three years. We were twenty five years old when we met but I went on a course to teach advanced athletics and on the way home I bought Kitty, as she liked to be called, a wren. She treasured anything I gave her – I have found 63 birthday cards and 63 cards 14th February stacked away . There were no pills in the late 40’s and Paula Wendy was born into my hands in our Searle St home.

We three travelled on the 10,000 ton Essperant Bay for the six week trip to Australia. We loved Australia – were welcomed and I worked at Fairey Aviation as a draughtsman well paid at that. We moved to a remote school in the bush and met some wonderfully capable young children. I was a keen horseman. Kitty’s father arrived here with his wife in 1913, she returned home 1915. He joined the Army was gassed on the Somme, shot and had a piece of shrapnel so near his heart they daren’t touch it – it came out of his back 20 years later. When he was ill we went home – he later died in our home in Hampshire – I was holding his hand. I did the same for Kitty last May and Paula and Linton were too. Linton is an airline pilot our son who spent six weeks with us last May.

Yours sincerely
Dennis xxxxxxx
5.5.21

Dawn and Bruce at first thought this some elaborate scam, but quickly realised this was an elderly man, now in his 90’s, reminiscing about his life and making contact with the present through a carefully written letter sent on trust to the present occupier of his old home. Dawn did some research and the originating address is a care home in New Zealand, and various online records confirmed Dennis and Kitty’s wedding, and passage on the SS Esperance Bay down under.

Whilst we were staying with them Bruce paid a quick visit to a neighbour’s house one evening to wish happy birthday to their daughter who was having a party, and whilst there was introduced to a fellow who had once owned the Mill Cottage that Bruce & Dawn now own. He listened to Bruce’s story about this letter from Dennis with amazement and delight. Then added “My son is currently in New Zealand! I’ll get him to visit Dennis and we can pass on some photographs and other material he might enjoy!”

So as I write this there is a little plan afoot to surprise an elderly man, now in the twilight of his life, with a visit and a reply to his wonderful letter, sent out on faith to an uncertain destination. And where this all might lead who knows. But there’s now a significant piece of the living history of a home, encapsulated in Dennis’s words, framed on Bruce & Dawn’s cottage wall. And hopefully, soon, the old fellow will receive a pleasant surprise of stories and photographs from the future that will take him on a little emotional journey to his own past.

Stories? “They are paths along which others may follow. They shape our world, and they live on long after we have gone.”

Thats why I love them.