Messing About On The Water

My Grandpa Hibbitt (Charles George Hibbitt) used to have a boat, a small cabin cruiser, and we spent many hours as a family on the Kingsbridge/Salcombe Estuary. He kept the boat at Frogmore Creek, a short drive from his and Gran’s home in the South Hams village of East Allington.

Frogmore in 2010

Frogmore in 2010

They say the sense of smell is the most nostalgic of the senses. Every spring when the new season arrives there’s a certain smell in the air and it always reminds me of our days out in the boat. Mind you, the smell of two-stroke does the same thing.

Grandpa on his boat

Grandpa on his boat

Grandpa had two rowing boats but one leaked so we never used it. The other one would accompany us on our day trip, being towed by the cruiser. The rowing boats were named after my elder brother and I (my younger brother probably wasn’t born when the names were first used). It sounds stupid now but I remember being miffed that the leaky boat was the one named after me.

Grandpa would moor up in a cove and my brother and I used to row around in the rowing boat. Some of the coves were only accessible from the water so it was like having our own little private beaches.

My two grans are sitting on the beachwith the cabin cruiser in the water and the rowing boat behind

My two grans are sitting on the beach
with the cabin cruiser in the water and the rowing boat behind

We used to hang a makeshift fishing rod out of the back of Grandpa’s cruiser as he motored along the estuary but we never ever caught a fish. No doubt, that would have been something to do with the lack of bait! I’m sure the fishing was just to occupy us.

There were numerous swans who used to grace us with their presence and I remember being told how they could break your arms if they came near you. I used to be really scared of them.

We sometimes went to Kingsbridge in the boat and I seem to recall there being a miniature train that you could ride on, close to the harbour.

Kingsbridge in 2010

Kingsbridge in 2010

Grandpa’s love of the water most certainly developed when he was a young boy. His father was a coastguard and so the family were brought up in various places by the sea.

Grandpa was born near Dundalk in Ireland, at a place called Soldier’s Point, and his father was stationed at a number of places in Ireland before coming back to England, specifically to Cornwall and Devon.

Grandpa was 9 years old when they settled at Devil’s Point in Stonehouse, now part of Plymouth, and he was 15 when they moved to the Yealm Estuary. The family most likely lived in the Old Coastguard Cottages opposite Newton Ferrers, and I imagine Grandpa would have regularly sailed on the Yealm during that time.

The Old Coastguard Cottages opposite Newton Ferrers, Devon, in 2010

The Old Coastguard Cottages opposite Newton Ferrers, Devon, in 2010

Later in adult life, Grandpa and Granny used to take boating holidays on the Norfolk Broads and it was after Grandpa retired that he bought his own boat.

Grandpa on his boat

Grandpa on his boat

Our boating days were over by the time I was 9 when sadly, Grandpa passed away in 1972, but the happy memories live on.

The pictures of the boat are amongst my Grandpa’s collection of old slides.

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Postman Spoils Long-Awaited WW2 Homecoming

I remember my Gran (Phyllis Grace Geake, nee Weaver) once telling me what happened the day my Grandpa (William Hellyer Geake) arrived home from the second world war, having been away for four years.

It was fairly early in the morning when Grandpa got home and his arrival coincided with that of the postman (or it might have been the milkman but I think it was the former). The postman knew Grandpa and proceeded to ask him all about his time away in the war and stood at the doorstep chatting for 5 or 10 minutes. How insensitive! All the while, Gran was waiting to greet the husband she hadn’t seen for such a long time. In addition to this, Grandpa had never even met his 4 year old daughter, who was more than a little coy at the sight of this strange man in their house! Gran said the postman ruined their reunion.

My Grandpa's WWII Service Record

My Grandpa’s WWII Service Record (click to enlarge)

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Doing The Deed!

Deed Poll Logo (AI Generated)

Deed Poll Logo (AI Generated)

The Deed is done! What Deed?…I hear you say. The Deed Poll, that’s what!

No this isn’t a riddle or a joke and it’s not a hypothetical either. For some time now, I’ve been considering incorporating my maiden name back into my name. My interest in family history, together with a strong desire to identify with my heritage, has spurred this decision on. So I ordered a pack from UK Deed Poll Service – and now I’m officially called Anne Mary Hibbitt BARNES.

I’m an advocate for the institution of marriage and have no desire to have a different surname to my husband so Hibbitt is now my second middle name, although it was my surname at birth. For any married women out there who don’t want to completely abandon their maiden name, a Deed Poll is an excellent way of keeping hold of it.

As to my Christian name, although informally I like to be known as Annie (and I shall continue in this vein), I decided that I should still formally be known as Anne. This is, and always has been, my proper name (given to me at birth and the one I was baptized with) and therefore, I don’t think I should want to change it now. In effect, all I have done is put back what was mine in the first instance, not altering or adding to it.

Of course, most people won’t notice anything different but I will know and that’s important to me. From now on, I can put Hibbitt on official forms. I’ve yet to complete the task of changing all my official documents – for some this could be laborious and is what has made me hesitate until now. However, getting ones documents changed is part of the point of it, as well as being a legal requirement, so I’ve finally bitten the bullet and gone for it.

Once more, I have that connection with my blood line reflected in my name. Who knows, maybe a descendant will stumble across my headstone in 200 years time, or discover me in the paper trail (or digital footprint), see the name and make that connection too!

[UPDATE: Somewhat ironically, a few years after changing my name, I discovered through DNA testing that my Hibbitt line doesn’t go back many generations after all. Nevertheless, it remains my name at birth and is therefore, still very important to me.]

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The Defence Of Rorke’s Drift By Alphonse De Neuville

After my recent stay in hospital, Harvey (my hubby) decided to cheer me up by presenting me with a large print of a famous painting by Alphonse-Marie-Adolphe de Neuville entitled ‘The Defence of Rorke’s Drift’. The print measures approximately 110 x 75cm, including the frame, and hangs conveniently in my stairwell.

Followers of my blog will know that I’m distantly related to 716 Pte. Robert Jones V.C., who took part in the battle on 22nd/23rd January 1879. Whilst there are many different paintings of the event, this is my personal favourite.

The Defence of Rorke's Drift by Alphonse de Neuville

The Defence of Rorke’s Drift by Alphonse de Neuville (click to enlarge)

Created in 1880, the original oil painting was commissioned by the Fine Art Society in London. It was bought by the Art Gallery of New South Wales in 1882 and is still amongst the collection to this day.

The caption underneath the print reads…

THE DEFENCE OF RORKE’S DRIFT
22nd January 1879

On January 22nd 1879, during the Zulu War, the small British field hospital and supply depot at Rorke’s Drift in Natal was the site of one of the most heroic military defences of all time. Manned by 140 troops of the 24th Regiment, led by Lieutenant John Chard of the Royal Engineers, the camp was attacked by a well-trained and well-equipped Zulu army of 4000 men, heartened by the great Zulu victory over the British forces at Isandhlwana earlier on the same day. The battle began in mid afternoon, when British remnants of the defeat at Isandhlwana struggled into the camp. Anticipating trouble, Chard set his small force to guard the perimeter fence but, when the Zulu attack began, the Zulus came faster than the British could shoot and the camp was soon overcome. The thatched roof of the hospital was fired by Zulu spears wrapped in burning grass and even some of the sick and the dying were dragged from their beds and pressed into desperate hand-to-hand fighting. Eventually, Chard gave the order to withdraw from the perimeter and to take position in a smaller compound, protected by a hastily assembled barricade of boxes and it was from behind this barricade that the garrison fought for their lives throughout the night. After twelve hours of battle, the camp was destroyed, the hospital had burned to the ground, seventeen British lay dead and ten were wounded. However, the Zulus had been repulsed and over 400 of their men killed. The Battle of Rorke’s Drift is one of the greatest examples of bravery and heroism in British military history. Nine men were awarded Distinguished Conduct Medals and eleven, the most ever given for a single battle, received the highest military honour of all, the Victoria Cross.

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Spotlight On Uncle Tom & Auntie Nellie Smale

I remember Uncle Tom (Thomas Smale) very well – he lived to be 95 years old and died in 1991. He came to my house when our son was a baby and we had a photograph taken of 5 generations but I seem to have mislaid the picture for the moment. The generations included, our son, me, my mum, my gran [Phyllis Grace Geake (nee Weaver)] and Uncle Tom, who was my gran’s uncle. I can remember visiting him once at his home in Sunshine Terrace in Tavistock, however, there were numerous times when I met him at my grandparents’ house. I can’t remember if I ever met Auntie Nellie (Nellie, nee Ball) – I might have done.

I’ve managed to find a colour picture of Tom & Nellie in one of my gran’s photo albums. It looks as though it was taken on the same day as an old newspaper cutting that I have announcing their golden wedding anniversary.

Tom Smale & Nellie (nee Ball)

Tom Smale & Nellie (nee Ball)

The cutting mentions that the couple met at the Lydford Pony Show. Does anyone have any further information about this event? If so, please contact me. Their wedding day in 1924 at Gulworthy Parish Church, was apparently a wash-out with torrential rain!

Some time after Auntie Nellie died, Uncle Tom gave me a little ivorine Book of Common Prayer which had belonged to her. I vaguely recall he left a vase to my gran in his will and I believe my brother has a Crown Derby tea set that was once Tom and Nellie’s.

Uncle Tom was a signalman on the railways and he still used to ride his bicycle when he was well into his 90’s.

My gran told me that Uncle Tom and Auntie Nellie had wanted to adopt her after her own grandmother, who was looking after her, died. Gran was 9 years old and an orphan. At that stage, Uncle Tom and Auntie Nellie had only been married a very short time so how true this story is, I’m not sure. The couple never had any children of their own so it might have been something they may have expressed retrospectively. In the event, my gran went to live with another aunt and uncle because reportedly, they were in greater need of the extra cash that was available for orphans from the First World War. This is not to suggest that they weren’t good ‘parents’ to her because they were.

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