For a period in the 1970s, I worked at a bookstall at Harrow & Wealdstone Railway Station in North West London.   It was not really at the end of the world but as I lived in Ealing, the journey each day felt that I was travelling to both Poles via Timbuktu.

 

Although I did not realise it at the time, I was witnessing the decade that time forgot.  Rather like Fitzgerald’s lost generation, this was a decade that passed and was, to some extent, forgotten soon afterwards.  It was the bridge between the rebellious 1960s and the more sombre 1980s and 1990s.

 

The actual bookstall was favourably situated between the up Bakerloo Line tube platform and the spectacular down Euston to all stations North of Watford platform.  I say spectacular, as express trains roared through the station at high speed causing the whole bookstall to shake each time. Although I had visited Harrow to play football I had never really visited the railway station before.  The previous manager sadly had a nervous breakdown when his precious cat died.  His passing was slightly mocked by certain members of staff but having lost Cindy Lou a few months previously, I sympathised with him.

 

Harrow & Wealdstone Railway Station as some of you may know. was the

scene of a catastrophic railway accident on the 8^th of October 1952 in which 112 people sadly died.  It was one of those accidents that to this day, (as with Moorgate) has not been fully explained.  Some of the staff that we there on that fateful day would tell me stories over a coffee and a cigarette of how by the luck of God, they missed being involved on that awful day.  One had popped out just before his shift to buy a loaf of bread and another had been detained in the main ticket hall.  Or at least these were the stories they told me.

 

To some extent, these stories passed me by as I was living in another country.  I was young.  As I look back, I can see the 1970s as if I have found a hidden time capsule.  But they are still here, even in the Hungerford of 2017.

 

I was in the Arcade the other day when I spotted a Midwinter Tea/Coffee set and it took me back to those dark frosty mornings when Wynne brought me a cup of tea when she brewed up.  She had used the same Midwinter cups.  As Captain Oates had already perished, I can tell you that the tea was most welcome.

 

If you look in the Arcade, there are many items that date from the 1970s. Obviously, records can be easily dated but what about the much maligned lava lamps.  I loved lava lamps and even purchased one for my tiny office in the bookstall so I could relax when cashing up at the end of the day. And if Bowie was playing on my transistor radio, then so much the better.

 

I was not aware of this until recently. but lava lamps were the invention of a naturist film maker named Edward Craven Walker (1918-2000), who was responsible for such gems as Travelling light (1959), Sunswept (1961) and the rather oddly titled Eves on Ski’s (1963).  Although the lava lamps actually predated the 1970s (Craven developed the idea in a country pub just after the war) to me, they were the essence of the 1970s.

 

On occasions when I am wandering around antique shops and retro fairs and I see these lamps, my mind slips back to my sturdy little lava lamp (which on occasions I forgot to switch off when I left in the evening only to find it continuing its gentle journey when I arrived the following morning). Lava lamps are still manufactured to this day. but the ones manufactured in the 1970s can still be found and after a quick check still work without a problem.  Or at least I am told they do.

 

Most people of a certain age look back on the 1960s with a fond nostalgia with its liberal attitudes and yes, the 1960s were a pivotal decade.  Bras were burnt, hair was shoulder length and flower power was all the rage. There were The Beatles and Jimi as well.  The Rolling Stones were already a fixture and Mr Bond was keeping this country safe from those fiendish enemies of freedom.

 

It was maybe because I was too young to appreciate the sixties that I have always been more nostalgic about the 1970s.  The curse of Political Correctness did not tarnish this decade and the crazy health and safety rules of today did not apply.  One just used common sense.

 

Do you realise that Star Wars started in the 1970s?

 

The first movie was released in 1977 (the year I met my beloved Caron)

and it was one of the first date movies we went to see.  The adventures of this space opera have continued to this day and its popularity has if anything increased.  This was brought into focus by the tragic death of Carrie Fisher (Princess Leia) over Christmas and the sadness that followed. 

 

What other items were connected with the 1970s?

Here are just a few:

 

Abba (I still love their music to this day) 

Jaws (were you alarmed during the sunken boat scene?)

Concorde (our skies are sadly quieter these days)

Charlie’s Angels (confectionery but much missed) 

Vinyl Records (which are making an incredibly strong comeback)

Platform Shoes (no more twisted ankles and six foot three women)

Flares (nuff said)

The Godfather (I might accept the offer that one cannot refuse if flares ever return)

Disco Mirror Balls (did they ever go away?) 

Bad Wallpaper (I am still haunted by the designs of the 1970s to this very day)

Saturday Night Fever (Staying Alive which was my motto when attending Chelsea away games)

The Magic Roundabout (come back Dylan all is forgiven)

Space Hoppers (and watching your siblings being launched into outer space)

The Silver Jubilee (we were strawberry picking in Kent and it came and went away)

Charlie Perfume (the smell of it still makes me feel light-headed)

Jack Nicholson (a stunning actor who like De Niro has faded into forgettable films) 

And lastly it was the decade of hot summers.

 

One remembers 1976, but there were other summers in the decade that

were most acceptable.  I can remember being in the South of France and ringing my father for further funds and boasting how hot it was in Frejus only to be told that it was considerably warmer in London.  Although our country summers here in Hungerford are acceptable, we rarely get the mad and crazy temperatures of the mid 1970s.  Perhaps they will return. Who knows?

 

Obviously, the list above is random and you are unlikely to find some of the items in the Arcade or elsewhere.  But there is a great deal available if look around.

 

Each time I visit the arcade, I find large numbers of items connected with or from this forgotten decade.  I always thought retro would make a return although I thought that the sixties and not the seventies would be the primary focus.  But I was wrong and the 1970s have made a very strong comeback.  When retro items are again manufactured. then you know that they have arrived.

 

The nice thing about 1970s retro is that not all that many years have passed since the actual event.  A lot of items are still around and because of this they are easy to find.  Whilst trailing around jumble sales and country fairs (I do not do boot sales) I frequently find items connected with this lost decade.

 

When inspecting a cabinet in Bedwyn a couple of summers ago, I found a 1970s newspaper which was getting very excited about the movie Last Tango in Paris (1972), which starred Marlon Brando and Maria Schneider.  Nothing had changed in thirty odd years with the media whipping itself up into frenzy about this serious and brilliant movie which contained the acting performance of the decade from Brando.

 

Even today, the movie causes waves and I noted just before Christmas that a comment made by the director Bernardo Bertolucci was jumped upon and attacked by people who (in my view) were immature in their outlook.  I doubt if Last Tango would have been made today given the ridiculous nature of correctness that can be found everywhere.  But in the 1970s and taking Mrs Whitehouse and her friends out of the equation, the movie was released and after a while the feeding frenzy faded leaving Last Tango in Paris to take its place in the history of European Cinema.  I saw the movie at the time of its release and admired it greatly and then, I just got on with my life.

 

This was the essence of the 1970s (which in a way was a harsher decade than the 1960s).  You just let things take their course and not everything had to be micro-analysed as it is today.  There were no mobile phones and the internet was still some years away.  If my memory serves me correctly, there were only three television channels and colour televisions were still something of a novelty.

 

But let us return to that innocent bookstall in North London where for a number of reasons I spent a great deal of time.  It faced the stairs of the

footbridge and from my vantage I was able to see the changing world of movie posters and the like.  One particularly springs to mind, it was the Liza Minnelli poster for her album Liza with a Z which I considered to be to be quite brilliantly designed.  There was simplicity to the artwork and for whatever reason, the poster remained in place for a considerable time.  Perhaps they forgot to replace it or just did not care.  I opened the stall with Liza with a Z and wished her good evening as I caught my train home. The odd thing was, that whilst I liked some of her songs, I was not really a great fan of Liza’s music.  But the poster was different and if I saw one (at a reasonable price), I would purchase it and frame it.  I would think of the small bookstall at Harrow & Wealdstone Railway Station with its cold mornings and exceptionally hot summers.

 

Each of us (if we are of a certain age), will remember the 1970s.   I hope with a certain fondness.   And if you are really keen, there are lots things to find and buy (usually at decent prices).  You can visit Hungerford with your wife (or girlfriend) of thirty or so years.  She can wear a cheese cloth blouse and Wrangler jeans and you can dress in (well that is up to you).  You might bring your children and their children and spend time exploring your memories of the 1970s.  It does not have to be Hungerford as retro is everywhere.  Just enjoy the trip while it lasts.

 

In November, I had occasion to be in Harrow so I decided to visit the railway station.  To my slight surprise, The Bookstall at the End of the World had gone and had been replaced by an open space.  I explored my geography and stood roughly where my lava lamp would have been and also, where I would have served my many customers.  There was not even a space for the posters where Liza with a Z had once been.  It had been replaced by a sign warning passengers not to stand too close to the platform edge as fast trains were passing.  That had not changed and these monsters seemed even noisier and more brutal than I had remembered them.  I felt a little sad at the passing of time but this did not last long, for in the 1970s, The Minions had not existed.

 

And what is life without The Minions?

 

Happy Hunting

 

Stuart Miller-Osborne

 

Hungerford Arcade have so many interesting customers come through the doors who enjoy sharing interesting parts of their lives with us and ultimately, with you.

 

Landlord, Russell Mackenzie and his lovely wife, Cardyn, moved from South Africa and took over the Royal Oak four months ago.  This stunning building has a beautiful garden where you can relax and enjoy the lovely weather.  (When we get some!)

 

 

 

 

 

 

Everyone at Hungerford Arcade wish Russell, Cardyn and the Royal Oak our very best wishes.  Rita 

Hungerford Arcade hold many events throughout the year.  The most recent one being the Model Steam Engines show hosted by Daniel Cordory and his good friend and fellow enthusiast, Roly.

 

 

Daniel and Roly also restore vintage model steam engines to their former glory, making sure they all get up a full head of steam.

 

 

Daniel and his wife Sarah have been stallholders at the Arcade for a few years now, Daniel specialising in steam engines and Sarah with her eclectic mix of silver, jewellery and lots of other items.

 

Hungerford Arcade is holding another one of our very successful Jewellery Valuation day’s on Saturday, 19th August between the hours of 10.00 am and 4.00 pm.  Stallholder, Frances Jones is an expert on all types of jewellery and invites you to bring in all your treasures so that she can tell you all about them and their value.

 

Not only that, apart from jewellery, Frances would like you to bring in any items that you wish to be valued or simply would like to know more about.

 

 

Frances also buys items of jewellery and most things that you would like

to sell.  So, have a good old clear-out and bring all your treasures in and who knows, you could be another lucky lady or gentleman who gets a nice surprise on the value of their items.

I first became aware of Alfred Williams when, for my ninth birthday I received a copy of his book Life in a Railway Factory which was originally published in 1915.  As part of the day, I was taken to Swindon to see the railway workshops (alas, from the outside) and treated to a tea in High (Old) Swindon not far from where Richard Jefferies once lived.

 

My father noted that Alfred Williams had been at the railway works for many years before being retired medically, and had been the author of many books during his short lifetime.  As with most nine year olds, I let it go in one ear and out of the other, although I enjoyed reading my book.

 

To be truthful, I forgot about Alfred for many years until a trip to Hungerford a few years ago.  For some reason, my wife and I found ourselves in Eddington where we met and chatted with an elderly gentleman who told us about the floods in the area.  He also mentioned that a certain Mary Peck had married Alfred Williams the writer from South Marsdon at St Saviours Church in the early years of the century.  Although he was too young to remember the event, his family knew the Peck family at the time.

 

This re-ignited my interest in Alfred, but it was to be another twenty years before I was able to investigate his history more thoroughly.  Although he is less well known than Richard Jefferies, he is very much a Swindon writer even though like Jefferies, he lived in a village a little distant from the main town.

 

When you think of Richard Jefferies, you think of Coate and Coate Water.

When you consider Alfred Williams, you think of the pretty village of South Marsdon.

 

 

 

 

However, unlike Shakespeare’s Stratford and the Bronte’s Haworth, if you visit South Marsdon, there is little to say that Alfred was born lived and was buried there apart from a couple of plaques on houses he lived in.

 

 

 

On a visit to his grave this summer, I found it sinking slightly into the ground and a little neglected.  It was all a little sad for a Wiltshire writer and poet who deserves to be ranked alongside Richard.

 

 Alfred Owen Williams was born in Cambria Cottage (which was one of the four houses in South Marsdon that he lived in ) on the 7^th February 1877.  His early years were quite eventful, he nearly drowned twice and was knocked down by a cart.  However, Alfred was made of stern material and survived.

 

The years (1882-83) were traumatic for the William’s family.  Alfred’s father, Elias left the family and because of debts connected with his failed business, Cambria Cottage was repossessed.  The family was forced to move some seventy yards down the lane to Rose Cottage where his mothers parents lived.  Alfred was to spend the next twenty years there.

 

He started part time at the South Marsdon School aged eight.  The school was still going strong at the time of my recent visit and had not changed greatly since Alfred’s day.  The rest of his time he spent helping in the fields.

 

Alfred also developed a fascination with steam and with some of his early earnings he purchased a model steam engine which he loved to play with. When he was about ten he was dared to lay between the rails on the main London to Bristol railway line.  A goods train passed over him and luckily, he was unharmed.  It was a dare he would never repeat.

 

As with a lot of children, Alfred had an interest in the railway which was not far from his home.  He became friendly with the engine drivers and was sometimes given rides in the cab.  This was the beginning of Alfred’s long connection with the railways of Swindon.

 

In 1891 he met for the first time his future wife Mary Peck, who hailed from Eddington just across the river from Hungerford.  Despite extensive researches, I have not be able to locate where the Peck family lived although, they would have been very familiar with Hungerford.  Alfred would have also known our town at the time.  It was in this year that Alfred ceased his agricultural work and joined his elder brothers Edgar and Henry at the Great Western Railway Works in Swindon.  They all walked the eight or so miles there and back each day.   Having tried this myself one-way on a leisurely Saturday, I can confirm that it was quite a walk especially after a hard day in the factory.

 

He started work in the Stamping Shop in the May of 1891 and it was his employment there that gave him the name of The Hammerman Poet.  It was around this time that Alfred began to write poetry and to paint which was to set him apart from his fellows.  During this period Alfred tried to join the Navy and the Metropolitan Police but he was rejected on medical grounds.  It appears he suffered from varicose veins.

 

At the age of nineteen, Alfred began to exchange books with a local member of the clergy.  He was an avid reader and according to Alfred’s excellent website (more later), particularly liked Sweetness and Light by W M Thompson as well as various Shakespeare plays.  A love poem he wrote at the time (happily preserved) to Mary was, according to Alfred, his first written poem.  He cut a strange figure at the railway works reading a great deal, especially in his lunch hour.

 

Alfred was now in his early twenties and this was an intense time of self education.  He enrolled on a four year correspondence course with Ruskin Hall in Oxford and at this time, started to teach himself Latin.

 

In 1901, ten years after their initial meeting, Alfred became engaged to his Mary.  There was a little opposition from her family but this soon faded. 

 

Alfred and Mary were married at St Saviours Church in Eddington on the 21^st of October 1903.  They honeymooned in Torquay where almost to the day, seventy five years later, my wife and I spent our honeymoon.  Alfred, at the time of his marriage, left Rose Cottage and moved into Dryden Cottage opposite Cambria Cottage where he was born.  They were to live in Dryden Cottage for the next fifteen years.

 

In 1904 he completed Sardanapalus (after Byron) which was rejected by the publishers.  However, he was given encouragement noting that the readers admired it.  Alfred was submitting various works at this time but none were published at first.  This included his first book of poems, Gift to Eros.  He did however, have two of his poems printed in New Songs in 1907.  It was about this time that Alfred began to be noticed and he received his first payment for three articles for The Young Men’s Magazine.

 

In 1909, Alfred met Edmond Fitzmaurice from my home town of Bradford on Avon.  Edmond was to be an influence both financially and otherwise on Alfred’s literary development.  The previously unpublished Gift to Eros was retitled Songs of Wiltshire.  He also found time to read Richard Jefferies memorable Story of my Heart.  Alfred’s poetry was very much of its time (although very readable, even today).  He had little time for the modern poetry which he considered muddled.

 

In 1910, Alfred delivered lectures in Swindon and London.  It was while in London that he met a reporter from the Daily Mail who suggested that he write a book about his experiences in the Swindon Railway Works.  This was the genesis of his most famous book, Life in a Railway Factory.  He was beginning to realise that he would never earn enough through his poetry so he decided to turn to prose. It was also becoming obvious that the conditions of his job were beginning to have a serious effect on his health.

 

Life in a Railway Factory was a very candid account of his place of work and would have had a detrimental effect on his employment if it had been published at the time.  He was also writing A Wiltshire Village about life in South Marsdon.  When he finished this book, Alfred fell ill with a bronchial condition and depression.  He was also having financial problems which were to trouble him on and off for the rest of his life.

 

In 1913, he published Cor Cordium (which I read quite often).  Alfred was at this time becoming nationally known and respected in literary circles.

He also published Villages of the White Horse but the dark clouds were beginning to build.

 

In 1914, after an illness diagnosed as acute dyspepsia, he was advised by his doctor to leave the railway factory.  Initially, he ignored his doctors advice but the illness was having an adverse effect on his life.  His friends generously contributed to a holiday for Mary and Alfred and he spent a fortnight in Ilfracombe and a week in both Aberystwyth and Pwllheli. Alfred was also writing Round About the Upper Thames.

 

Due to his circumstances there were attempts to get Alfred nominated for a pension.  This went as far as the Prime Minister Herbert Asquith.  Alfred was a proud man who did not want to receive charity noting; So long as I can get pure air and a crust of bread that is all I want.  He was warned by his doctor that he would be dead in six months if he did not leave the railway works.  This he did in September 1915.  The following month, Life in a Railway Factory was published and although causing ripples, the actual sales were rather disappointing.

 

Alfred spent much of his free time collecting folk songs, mainly on his bicycle (against his doctors advice).  Although rewarding, his financial affairs were in dire straights and both he and Mary appear to have suffered as a result.  However, out of the blue in September 1916, Alfred was passed fit for war duty and in the January of 1917, Alfred found himself in Ireland.  He also spent some time in Scotland.  He had expected to go to France, but in the end, he was posted to India.  His ship, the Balmoral Castle was attacked by submarines, but was not sunk thankfully.  He was writing Boys of the Battery at the time.

 

After a brief spell in South Africa, he arrived in India in November 1917 and soon became fascinated with its history and culture.  He was by now working on a book called Indian Life and Scenery.  Like many, he became ill with fever.  As things worked out, he found himself in Ranikhet which, as you will see, will have a connection with a small Wiltshire village many thousands of miles away.  He was captivated with India and noted that if he were younger, he would have invited Mary to join him.  He also saw the Taj Mahal.

 

It was during his stay in India that he was informed by Mary that they would have to move house as Dryden Cottage had been purchased by a local farmer who had decided to live in it.

 

 

 

After three weeks leave, during which he explored more of India, he left in October 1919.  He arrived back in Wiltshire the following month.  Due to the situation with Dryden Cottage, Alfred had decided to build his final home, Ranikhet.  He was helped in the building costs by a government subsidy as well as help from Edmund Fitzmaurice.  Alfred and Mary moved into Ranikhet in January 1922.  Although this should have been the start of the good times, it proved totally the opposite.

 

The fruit and pea growing business he and Mary set up went badly, mainly due to the poor weather.  He received small royalties from his books but they had little to live on.  These were very hard times.  In the next few years things did not really get better.  Alfred was still writing, but it was a battle to survive for he and Mary were both in poor health.

 

As the decade ended, he finished his Tales From the Panchatantra which did not find a publisher.  He was always prone to depression and lapsed into acceptance of failure.  Alfred became resigned to the hard life he and Mary were suffering.

 

In the November of 1929, Mary was taken ill with what was thought to be an ulcerated stomach.  It was later diagnosed as cancer.  For Alfred this was the beginning of the end and he noted at the time;

 

Without her I see no value in anything but a life of emptiness.

I could never give my beloved girl any comforts.

For 15 years I have been fooled by promises.

My dearest has to go the hard way to death without seeing any of our hopes realised.

The pity of it quite overwhelms me.

 

As Mary’s health got worse, Alfred really gave up caring about his own welfare.  He was described as being like a maimed bird.  The tragedy was in full swing and Alfred was unable to control it.

He cycled to Swindon twice a day and this was to take a toll on his already weak constitution.  After a visit to friends on the 9^th of April 1930, an emotional Alfred returned to Ranikhetin  in very poor condition, suffering severe chest pains.  The following day he collapsed and died of heart failure.  He was only 53.

 

Mary, although terminally ill, returned home to Rankihet to witness his funeral procession on the 15th of April 1930.  She joined Alfred soon afterwards, passing away on the 29^th May 1930.  They were buried together in the churchyard at South Marsdon.

 

In the summer of 2011, I visited South Marsdon to see what traces of Alfred Williams still remained some eighty years after his death.  I was quite surprised to see very little had changed and indeed, if Alfred and Mary ever came back, they would recognise it instantly.  Cambria Cottage, Rose Cottage, Dryden Cottage and Rankihet are still there (although Rankihet is almost obscured from the road by bushes and trees).

 

 

Externally, these cottages have changed little from the historical photographs you can find on the internet.  Obviously, as they were private residences, I did not explore them, but if you stand between Dryden and Cambria,  you can see each of the four places where Alfred lived.  In theory, his life was fenced within a very small area, although his books have no such boundaries.

 

To find Alfred and Mary’s grave, you must pass Rose Cottage and head for the church.  Their place of rest is on the left as you enter the graveyard, about thirty yards from the path near the wall.  As I noted earlier, the ground near the grave has subsided a little so their grave is at a shallow angle.  It is indeed a restful place and you sense, as you do in the village, the presence of Alfred.

 

I am indebted when researching this article, to the excellent Alfred Williams Heritage Society website which is treasure trove of information about all aspects of Alfred’s life and his works.

 

In 1945 Leonard Clark published a fine biography of Alfred Williams which is an excellent read.  As with a number of Alfred’s books, it is a little hard to find although, if you look hard enough, you will find them.  Swindon Library has a fine collection of books by both Alfred and Richard Jefferies and these are worth checking out.

 

Usually, a town is lucky to have one major literary connection but Swindon has two.  Whilst Alfred and Richard were born years apart, they both had connections with Wiltshire villages only ten or so miles apart.  It is indeed a rich heritage.

 

Taking Leonard’s 1945 book as a source, I have listed Alfred’s published works below.  I apologise for any omissions.

 

Songs In Wiltshire (1909)

Poems in Wiltshire (1911) 

Nature and Other Poems (1912)

A Wiltshire Village (1912) 

Cor Cordium (1913) 

Villages of the White Horse (1913) 

Life in a Railway Factory (1915) 

War Sonnets and Songs (1915) 

Round About the Upper Thames (1922) 

Folk Songs of the Upper Thames (1923)

Selected Poems (1925) 

Tales from the Panchatantra (1930)

Tales from the East (1931)

 

Stuart Miller-Osborne

 

Hungerford Arcade staff were in awe as two beautiful young ladies came into the Arcade dressed head-to-toe in stunning Japanese gothic clothes.

 

Connie Tuttle has come over from Japan, where she teaches English, for a three week holiday.  Everything Connie and Lisa wear comes entirely from Japan.  The only time she does not wear Gothic Lolita is when she is at school teaching.

 

Lisa Robinson works in an office during the week, but dresses in Gothic Lolita seven days a week.  I was fascinated by her “coffin” handbag which, as you will see from the photo, looks exactly like one.

 

 

Connie and Lisa were kind enough to agree to having their photographs taken with our very own Arcade co-owner, Adrian Gilmour.  It was good fun.

 

Thank you Connie and Lisa for making our day!  Rita