1939

 

1939

After the end of the First World War, the Duke of York, later to become King George VI, following his elder brother’s abdication, wanted to try and break down some of the class barriers rampant in Great Britain. He founded week-long summer camps, which ran annually until 1939, just before the outbreak of World War Two.

His ambition was to bring boys together from dissimilar circumstances to enjoy outdoor pursuits and find common ground and friendship. About five hundred boys from backgrounds as varied as public (fee-paying) boarding schools and mining communities were invited to join.

Southwold Common in Suffolk was a frequent location, and the Duke of York often joined the boys at the camps for a day, even after he became King. He enjoyed taking part in activities, which included games, swimming, talks and entertainments, and sleeping under canvas with the boys. The boys knew him as the Great Chief, and he wore the same uniform of shorts and shirt as they did. The importance of teamwork was emphasised.

In 1939, when it was clear that the country would soon be going to war again, and the young lads would be embroiled in combat, the King decided that he wanted to spend more than one day with ‘his boys’ and so invited them to Abergeldie Castle, three miles from Balmoral.

For this final camp, which he renamed the King’s Camp, the King invited just two hundred boys, and altered the emphasis from games and competition to discovering the wonders of nature. He planned all the activities, including mapping out hikes they would take. The boys were invited to tea at Balmoral Castle, where they met the Queen and the princesses.

The last camp commenced on 5^th August. War was declared on 1^st September, four weeks later.

Pathé News, which produced documentaries and newsreels for sixty years, from 1910 to 1970, presented a review of 1939. Part of it showed George VI and other members of the Royal Family at camp, singing ‘Underneath the spreading chestnut tree.’  It was a favourite song of his and was chosen for the 1948 Royal Command Performance.

It was also a favourite of mine, and one I enjoyed teaching. The lyrics, inspired by the first line of ‘The Village Blacksmith’ by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1832) were written by J and H Kennedy. Hal Kemp set them to music and the song was recorded by the Glenn Miller Orchestra in 1939, with Marion Hutton. It’s delivered at a spanking pace, and I can imagine anyone attempting to add the actions would be quite breathless by the end.     

Below are the actions to the words, as clearly as I can set them out.

 

Underneath the spreading chestnut tree (spread arms above head, then touch chest, head and lift arms high)

I loved him and he loved me.                              (hands on heart, then hug)

There I used to sit upon his knee,                     (hands on knees)

‘Neath the spreading chestnut tree.                 (as before)

 

There beneath the boughs we used to meet,   (spread arms, then clasp hands)

All his kisses were so sweet:                            (kiss fingers)

All the little birdies went ‘tweet-tweet’         (fingers make bird beaks)

‘Neath the spreading chestnut tree.             (as before)

 

I said, ‘I love you and there ain’t no ifs or buts, (hands on heart, shake finger)

He said, ‘I love you’ and the blacksmith shouted, ‘Chestnuts!’ (hands on heart)

 

Underneath the spreading chestnut tree          (as before)

There he said he’d marry me,                           (mimic placing ring on finger)

Now you ought to see our family     (hand indicates heights of children on ‘fa-mi-ly)

‘Neath the spreading chestnut tree.                (as before)

 

 As with all songs or dances, there were adaptations. The following clips show two. The first shows the King and his family singing at a camp sing song.

 The second shows how the song emigrated to the USA to become a dance.

The Green Children of Woolpit

 

The Green Children of Woolpit

Image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

Woolpit (Old English wulf-pytt) is an ancient Suffolk village named after a pit used for trapping wolves. One day around 1150, the villagers found two young children next to the pit. They wore unusual clothes and spoke an unfamiliar language. More than that, they had green skin.

The children were taken to the house of Sir Richard de Calne, the local lord, who took them in and offered them food which they refused, although they were obviously hungry. In the garden they found some green beans, which they devoured. It is believed that they lived with Sir Richard for several years and gradually he persuaded them to eat other foods and as they did so their skin lost its green pallor.

They also learnt to speak English and when they were sufficiently adept they were asked where they had come from. They said they came from ‘the land of St Martin’ where the sun never shone and everyone was green.

 It may be a folk tale of otherworldly beings or else the basic story has become garbled through the years. One theory suggests that they were the descendants of Flemish immigrants but doesn’t explain how they arrived in Woolpit.

The green skin may have been caused by the ‘green sickness’, a form of anaemia caused by a lack of iron in the diet, which was alleviated by the introduction of good food.

Soon after the children were baptised the boy died but his sister, known as Agnes, continued to live with Sir Richard and later married the archdeacon of Ely, Richard Barre.

I wonder if Sue from ‘My Quiet Life in Suffolk’ can throw some light on this age-old legend.