[Click on the three dots to whizz you to the specific section, or take your time and read the whole thing in order. It's your choice.]
— Literary Wandsworth Common . . .
— Big Bad Mouse . . .
— Whack-O! and the comedy of corporal punishment . . .
— Hair and long hair . . .
— Trinity Jazz Club, cradle of British R&B . . .
— Where were the Wandsworth Stocks? . . .
— Surrey Pauper Lunatic Asylum opens, 1841 . . .
— Save All-Saints . . .
— Battersea Society: Plaque commemorates Tom Taylor and Laura Barker . . .
— WHS: Talk on the Thames Valley in the Iron Age . . .
— "Life and Death on Wandsworth Common in WWI: The 3rd London General Hospital" — an Armistice-day talk for the Friends of Wandsworth Common . . .
I often wonder why "Wandsworth Common" features so often in literary texts. As a setting or significant reference in novels and plays, I suspect that it pulls way above its weight — particularly where skulduggery is involved.
Off the top of my head, there's William Thackeray's Vanity Fair (c.1850); Charles Kingsley, Alton Locke (1857); Mrs Braddon, Henry Dunbar (1864); James Grant, Second to None: A Military Romance (1864); William Ulick O'Connor Cuffe, Earl of Desart, Mervyn O'Connor (1880); Oscar Wilde, The Canterville Ghost (1887); Arthur Lillie, The Cobra Diamond (1890); Arthur Conan Doyle, The Adventure Of The Greek Interpreter (1893); Sax Rohmer, The Hand of Fu-Manchu (1917); Noel Coward, Fallen Angels 1925), R.C. Sherriff, The Fortnight in September (1931), David Severn, A Cabin for Crusoe (1943); Elizabeth Berridge, Across the Common (1964, 2008), Sabine Durrant, Under Your Skin (2014), Remember Me This Way (2015) and Finders, Keepers (2020), Peter May, Lockdown (2020), Michael de Larrabeiti, The Borrible Trilogy (1976-1986), Robert Nuttall, Wandsworth Common (2020) . . .
I could go on and on — and probably will. But do let me know if you come across others. I'd like to thank Rita Gallinari for alerting me to some of these books — thanks, Rita!
Is there another London open space that might challenge it? Hampstead Heath? Wimbledon Common? I think not.
If I made some more time, I might one day run some rigorously scientific content-analysis. But in the meanwhile, I'll stick with my claim and let you prove me wrong.]
And now, at last, we get to Big Bad Mouse — see the playbill at the top of this piece. No, we're not talking about the Big Bad Mouse who terrifies the Gruffalo's Child, but a "sex-pest" who chases a young woman on Wandsworth Common.
Hugely successful in the 1960s, this West End farce became a star vehicle for two popular comedians, Jimmy Edwards and Eric Sykes. The show ran for more than 600 performances — a desperately-needed hit that saved the then-ailing Shaftesbury Theatre.
[When the show transferred around the country, the name of the local open space would be substituted, but Wandsworth Common was the original, and best-known, location. But why Wandsworth Common? What was so inherently funny/dodgy about it?]
Here's a helpful plot-summary:
The action takes place in the sleepy factory office of the fictitious Chunkibix Ltd. The office is run by the domineering and pompous Mr Price-Hargreaves [Jimmy Edwards] whose assistant, the shy and downtrodden Mr Bloome [Eric Sykes], is under his thumb and generally treated badly.
This continues until a flasher and stalker chases a young woman across Wandsworth Common (changed to a prominent local park when the show toured). Bloome is accused of being the flasher by the victim and a police detective.
Surprisingly, the female workers in the office, to whom Bloome had previously been all but invisible, suddenly find him sexually interesting, and almost a hero figure.
[Well, don't say I didn't warn you about the sexual politics.]
Their flirtatious attentions have the effect of bolstering Bloome's ego; he quickly grows in confidence and stature, finally answering back to Price-Hargreaves, and even suggesting revolutionary improvements that greatly increase sales, thus drawing the attention of Chunkibix company owner, Lady Chesapeake.
So satisfying is Bloome's transformation and newly found confidence that when the young victim discovers she has made a mistake in identifying him as her assailant, Bloome becomes increasingly desperate to keep her quiet . . .
[Wikipedia: Big Bad Mouse.]
Jimmy Edwards was hugely famous at the time for his role as the sadistic (and perpetually drunk) headmaster in the BBC TV series Whack-O!.
The series (in black and white) ran on the BBC from 1956 to 1960 and (in colour) from 1971 to 1972. Edwards took the part of Professor James Edwards, M.A., the drunken, gambling, devious, cane-swishing headmaster who tyrannised staff and children at Chiselbury public school (described in the opening titles as "for the sons of Gentlefolk").
[Wikipedia: Whack-O!.]
If you're at all interested in the peculiarities of a time when a popular TV programme could be based on the pleasure a man derives from the caning of boys' backsides, you can read more in the Wikipedia article cited above and on the BBC website: Whacko.
According to Jimmy Edwards's biographer, quoted on the BBC site, "Watching the series now is a little painful in one respect — we're too sensitive to find canings amusing — but it's right on the money in other ways, mainly because finding over-privileged kids vile hasn't gone out of fashion."
All of which got me thinking about corporal punishment at Emanuel.
Caning at Emanuel was carried out not only by "masters" (teachers), but also by 6th-form "prefects" ("responsible young adults preparing for leadership positions when they left school", or Establishment stooges, depending on your point of view), who imposed strict discipline throughout the school outside of the classroom.
[And masters — there were no "mistresses" back then — wore mortar boards and academic gowns. Do they still? I must ask Emanuel's ever-helpful archivist Tony Jones.]
Acts that seem to me in retrospect (and at the time) trivial — putting a foot on the grass, fighting, answering back, were deemed to be serious "offences" that could be punished by an hour or two's detention on a Saturday morning. Grrr. But these hours mounted, and since there were only a certain number of hours on a Saturday (when you had much better things to do with your life), you could get the hours "caned off" — at the rate of two strokes per hour.
And the "offences"? Here are a few from the Prefects' Punishment Book:
"Insolence"
"Trying it on"
"Grunting in detention"
"Repeated cranial nudity" [i.e not wearing your cap]
"Repeated flapping of the lips"
"Lack of respect for an old bag"
"Ignoring my several instructions not to"
How we laughed!
The idea that big teenage boys were encouraged to thrash those smaller than themselves may seem, well, a little odd now.
Caning could even be celebrated ironically. Here's an image of "Beating the Bounds of Emanuel School" in the 1920s:
For more on the Beating of Bounds at Emanuel School, see. March 2023 Chronicles
We boys were also thrashed/beaten/flogged at Earlsfield Junior School on Tranmere Road in the 1950s — though the more usual instruments of inflicting pain were the teacher's big rubber plimsoll, rounders bat, or wooden rule (or flat the hand).
[All forms of corporal punishment were made illegal in state schools in 1986, but in private schools not until a decade or so later, in 1998. Hmm, which isn't actually that long ago. There was a very interesting debate in the Commons in July 1986. (See Hansard, Abolition of Corporal Punishment.)]
Curiously, in the early 1950s Wandsworth Prison became the repository of the country's entire stock of birches and cats-o-nine-tails for use in penal institutions:
Memorandum to Prisons re: Birches and Cats-o'-Nine Tails, 1951
Prison Commission
Horseferry House
Dean Ryle Street
London SW1
20 July 1951
Memorandum to all male establishments
BIRCHES AND CATS-O'-NINE TAILS
Governors are requested to note that any stocks of cats-o'-nine-tails and birches should be returned immediately to Wandsworth Prison: no stocks of these items should be held at any time at any establishment other than Wandsworth.
In future, when a recommendation for corporal punishment is forwarded to the Commissioners, a demand should be placed on Wandsworth for the supply of three cats or birches, as the case may be. There should thus be no delay in the execution of the punishment if confirmed.
Each cat-o'-nine tails must be thoroughly tested before use. Unused cats and birches should be returned immediately to Wandsworth; used ones should be destroyed in accordance with Standing Orders (Appendix 8).
F.S. Collins
Controller
[Source: PRO: HO 323/13 (memoranda and circulars to prisons), reprinted in Corpun: World Corporal Punishment Research.]
Now here's something that feels like irony, of sorts.
While Big Bad Mouse was playing at the Shaftesbury Theatre, the law governing what could and could not be shown on the stage was changed. From 1737 to 1968, scripts had to be approved by the Lord Chamberlain. So, needless to say, there was a good deal of censorship (and indeed prudishness) — increasingly alien to the ethos of the "Swinging Sixties".
This very brief summary of the almost revolutionary actions of the Labour Government of 1964-1970 includes the ending of theatre censorship (on 26 September 1968):
A number of liberalising social reforms were passed through parliament during Wilson's first period in government. These included the near abolition of capital punishment, decriminalisation of sex between men in private, liberalisation of abortion law and the abolition of theatre censorship. The Divorce Reform Act 1969 was passed by Parliament (and came into effect in 1971).
[Wikipedia: Labour Government, 1964-1970.]
On 27 September 1968, the following night, the musical Hair opened at the Shaftesbury. (Its first performance having been delayed until the passing of the Act.)
Hair: The American Tribal Love-Rock Musical . . . reflects the creators' observations of the hippie counterculture and sexual revolution of the late 1960s, and several of its songs became anthems of the anti-Vietnam War peace movement.
The musical's profanity, its depiction of the use of illegal drugs, its treatment of sexuality, its irreverence for the American flag, and its nude scene caused much comment and controversy. The work broke new ground in musical theatre by defining the genre of "rock musical", using a racially integrated cast, and inviting the audience onstage for a "Be-In" finale.
[Wikipedia: Hair (musical).]
[See also Wikipedia: Theatres Act, 1968.]
Hair had an exceptionally long run and was just short of its 2,000th performance when part of the theatre ceiling collapsed and the house had to be closed. (Doubtless some people thought it a judgment.)
While we're on the subject, I suddenly recalled how much the length of a boy's hair was the subject of much controversy in the 1960s. Presumably this reflected a still heavily militarised wider society immediately post-Second World War.
"Long hair" was widely held to signify dirtiness, lack of ambition, lack of discipline, unmanliness, "effeminacy" and gender-confusion (but also sexual promiscuity), antagonism to authority, rebelliousness, anti-Americanism.
(It was certainly the thing that generated more conflict between myself and my father than any other.)
Golden days.
You may recall how the Beatles, the Rolling Stones et al were all at least in part notorious for their hirsuteness. Another such group was the Downliners Sect. They may not have reached the same stratospheric heights of fame, but they were once really big, albeit in a modest sort of way.
This is what the Downliners Sect looked like in the mid-1960s. Pretty unremarkable today, but shockingly long-haired and scruffy at the time (though notice that a couple are wearing ties):
And here's what they sounded like — not unlike early Rolling Stones. (A lot of groups did.)
Maracas, tambourines and harmonicas (super-cheap instruments that were easily available and required little musical education) were de rigueur. Pretty standard blues repertoire for many groups at the time; loud and almost unbearably exciting in the confined space of the Trinity Jazz Club.
I'd better not bang on about it now, but as a teenager I was a regular at the Trinity Jazz Club. In my memory, the place was HUGE. And yes, it was always PACKED and STEAMING HOT. But time passes, and all things change. When I went back to the hall a couple of years ago (to see a pantomime with my grandchildren) I was simply incredulous at how tiny it was.
Here's a comment I found online from John Jones, commenting in September 2019:
"I remember well seeing Downliners Sect at Trinity Jazz Club, Wandsworth in 1964, not sure of date. A man named Colin was the ‘organizer’, I believe, at the door. The Jazz Club was a small hall actually part of a church. Great raw sound and a delight as it was 5 minutes from where I lived. I also remember practicing at that hall as I was in a start up band playing guitar. The night I saw Downliners, it was packed and hot and I had a great time!"
[GarageHangover.com: Link.]
[Colin? May his name be blessed. Does anybody know anything more about him?]
Sixty years later devoted fans have compiled lists of Downliners' performances. Here are some from 1964:
22 February — Trinity Jazz Club, Wandsworth, South London
8 March — Trinity Jazz Club, Wandsworth, South London (evening)
22 March — Trinity Jazz Club, Wandsworth, South London (evening)
18 April — Trinity Jazz Club, Wandsworth, South London (evening)
2 May — Trinity Jazz Club, Wandsworth, South London
27 June — Trinity Jazz Club, Wandsworth, South London
[Another group that performed quite frequently at the Trinity Jazz Club, which I loved, was Themselves — I think they had originally been called Them, but Van Morrison's band of the same name got into the charts first, with "Gloria" and "Baby Please Don't Go", so an instant rebrand was called for. Their finale was always a 20-minute or more cover of Muddy Walters's "I'm a Man". I can still hear it in my mind's ear.
My personal favourite was the Thyrds, a group from Emanuel School led by Paul Ellis. I followed them everywhere, including to the finals of ITV's "Ready Steady Win" — a competition to win a recording contract that grew out of "Ready Steady Go". But of that, and them, perhaps more another time.]
And here's the venue today. Has it shrunk?
[Incidentally, why are the two parts — hall and church — so different in architectural style, decoration and colour? The church is really rather austere, at least on the outside. What does Pevsner say?
In personal correspondence, Barbara Littlechild has made some very helpful comments, including an explanation of how the hall may indeed be smaller than the one I remember, though only by a small amount:
"According to the SMM website, it appears the first part of the Church (Nave & South Aisle) were completed in 1888, the Chancel in 1900, and the Hall & North Aisle in 1907.
Re St Mary Magdalene Hall — we've had a whole wall of 6-foot-deep cupboards built to house the nursery's "stuff" so it does slightly reduce the space. Also in the 1990s we built extra halls in the transepts of the church and opened up a connecting door from the hall.
It also mentions that the Stained Glass windows by the main door on Trinity Road were blown out and that the big window was bowed as a result of bombs, which would tie in with a bomb on Trinity Fields near Trinity Road.
I know Mum talked about being moved out of her house in Trinity Road for a few days into the pre-fabs on the common due to a bomb, I'm guessing the one in Brodrick Road."
]
A year earlier, the blues harmonica-player Cyril Davis performed here (possibly at least four times) with his R&B All-Stars. At some gigs at this time the Rolling Stones were Cyril's support band (though not, sadly, at the Trinity Jazz Club). As one recent writer described him: "Hailed by many as the best blues harmonica player the UK ever produced, Cyril Davies was a grumpy, balding panel beater who happened to lead the London R&B scene that shaped British rock, yet made few records before passing away in January 1964 at the age of only 31 . . . [He] inspired a generation of rock musicians — and has been all but airbrushed out of history" (Chris Needs on the Louder Sound site.]
[There a lot of fascinating information about Cyril Davis online. I would have liked to include more, but we should probably move on. Here, though, is a link to one of his signature numbers (another Muddy Walters R&B standard), "Got my Mojo Workin'". Give it a listen.]
Nearly all of the music being played had been originated by black musicians (mainly at this time Muddy Waters, Howlin' Wolf, Bo Diddley and Chuck Berry), which young white ones were attempting to copy. It is impossible to overstate the importance of music in establishing new attitudes of respect for black music and black performers, male and female.
Does anybody have any recollections or memorabilia of golden age Trinity Jazz Club? Tell me.
Here's another local punishment-related story. Doubtless some people would have welcomed seeing the Downliners in the stocks, but that's not what this is about.
"The following case, which occurred last week, cannot fail to excite in the minds of majority of your readers feelings of the most ineffable disgust and indignation . . ."
In October 1838 an (anonymous) writer complained to the local press about the treatment of a young woman (with an infant in her arms). She had been found in an intoxicated state and fined (two shillings) but her husband had refused to pay the fine. (I have seen many examples of husbands refusing to help their wives.) Since she could not (and her husband would not) pay, she was held in Wandsworth's stocks:
THE WEEKLY DISPATCH
MR. EDITOR,
The following case, which occurred last week, cannot fail to excite in the minds of majority of your readers feelings of the most ineffable disgust and indignation.
A young woman named Sarah Hill, with an infant in her arms, was taken to Wandsworth Police-office, charged with having been found on the steps of a door with an infant in her arms the preceding evening, in a state of intoxication. The prisoner was, on inquiry, found to be a married woman, and admitted the truth of the charge of which she was accused.
The Magistrate, after duly commenting on her disgraceful conduct, ordered her to pay a fine of two shillings.
She said she had no money, and her husband was subsequently applied to, but he refused to pay the fine. The woman was then ordered to be placed in the stocks, and was accordingly soon at or taken by the Wandsworth constable to the stocks, and was then seated on a low stool: the infant, which appeared very young lay on its mother's lap!
The stocks, it is stated, are in a retired part of the town, near the river, and a number of boys soon collected, who began to hoot the unfortunate object of their sport. After remaining about half an hour in this unenviable state, she was liberated! This is the substance of the report.
Whoever the enlightened Mentor was that awarded such a sentence, is a disgrace to the Bench. Assuredly he cannot be either a husband or a father to sentence a young female, with her infant child, to undergo so demoralizing an exhibition. It betrays a want of humanity, and a violation of the decencies of civilized life. "Oh Judgment! thou art fled to brutish beasts. And men have lost their reason."
Let it be granted that the unfortunate woman had debased herself — that she was one of the mast drunken of her sex; I ask any rational-minded person if such a mode of punishment was calculated to bring a reformation, but, on the contrary, whether it was not admirably adapted to blunt her moral feelings?
If I am not mistaken, such a mode of torture is now somewhat rare, even for male offenders, and is only resorted to in remote districts of the country; but let it be borne in mind, that in this instance the party was a young married female, placed in what must, at any time, be a most uneasy and painful position, and materially increased by having the child's weight to sustain.
As she acknowledged her fault, and expressed her inability to pay the fine and her husband refused to pay it, was there no other method of punishment that would have answered the purposes of Justice more effectually than by having recourse to so unusual a mode of female torture? I pause for a reply.
Whatever her conduct may have been, I have seldom heard of so harsh, so unfeeling, and so uncalled for a mode of punishment. It is highly discreditable to the Justice Shallow who heard the case, and speaks little in favour either of his tender mercies or of his morality. If such abuses are of frequent occurrence in Wandsworth, the sooner they are abolished the better.
[BNA: Link.]
[How interesting that the piece is packed with literary and mythological references, including:
— Mentor (Homer, The Odyssey: "When Odysseus left for the Trojan War, he placed Mentor in charge of his son Telemachus")
— "Oh Judgment! thou art fled to brutish beasts. And men have lost their reason." (Shakespeare: Julius Caesar: Act 3, Scene 2)
— Justice Shallow (Shakespeare: Henry IV: Part II).]
The article says the stocks were located in "a retired part of the town, near the river". Any idea where?
[In spite of the varied refuse that has clearly been thrown at the victim (I see a turnip, a dead rat, a dead fowl, old bones and much else), his uniform is remarkably pristine. Presumably this illustrates a scene in a book or play, which I have not been able to identify — but almost certainly nothing to do with Wandsworth or Battersea.]
By the way, there's a difference between stocks and pillories. In stocks, you sit, and your feet are clamped (sometimes your wrists as well). In pillories, you stand or kneel, and your head and wrists are gripped.]
COUNTY LUNATIC ASYLUM
The Visiting Justices appointed to superintend the erection of the County Lunatic Asylum reported that the building was now completed at a cost of £99,860 10s. 5d.*, and it was capable of receiving three hundred inmates.
There were at present 238 patients in the Asylum, four of whom only afforded the slightest probability of their being cured of their malady; and the cases of the other might be considered as incurable from the long duration of the disease. One patient, a woman ninety years old, had died in the asylum, and one had been sent home, cured, to her friends.
[BNA: Link.]
[* Fifteen years later the enormous Royal Victoria Patriotic Asylum cost just £35,000.]
The Elizabethan-style original building was relatively small and simple, and set in a glorious rural landscape with views across the Wandle Valley to Earl Spencer's Wimbledon Park estate. The roof line was castellated to imply security — this was, after all, intended as an "asylum" in the original sense of a place of safety, a refuge from the dangerous outside world.
It looks to our eyes more like a stately home than a warehouse-like "bin" characteristic of later in the century. In the 1870s large wings were added to the front left and right. Later, there was considerable building all over the site.
The creation of such an immense — and immensely costly — institution, set in a 100-acre site on the edge of a fast-growing London requires explanation (but sadly for me, not just now). Numbers of inmates rose from the initial two or three hundred to over two thousand by the Second World War.
Aerial view of the (very near) future:
Clearly most of the original grounds and farm are already built over, or shortly will be. However, a large park is also being created, with open access from Burntwood Lane. Another section of the park, with delightful playgrounds, was opened on 1st October. When I went with a nearly-three-year-old on Friday, the playgrounds were heaving.
TALES FROM THE SURREY PAUPER LUNATIC ASYLUM
"As one of our contributions to this year’s Wandsworth Heritage Festival, Philip Boys relates tales from what would later become Springfield Hospital. Some of the records of former patients — most of them women — are confined to a single photograph, often vivid and poignant, but for others there are fascinating stories to tell."
[Friends of Wandsworth Common: Videos (scroll down to find the one you want to view.]
LOTS of correspondence — thank you, everyone. It's been fun, and very illuminating. In the fullness of time, I hope to add everything to the Chronicles. Apologies for any delay.
One remarkable contribution was this, from Barbara Littlechild, whose family have been involved for many years with St Mary Magdalene Church. (See, for example, this entry on Barbara's mother Dora and fellow members of an embroidery circle who together had created the gorgeous Parish Cope.)
Barbara's father Alan (1926-2004) had at some time made a remarkable map of bombs that fell on the parish. He knew the area well. He lived in Elsynge Road as a child, joined the 1st Wandsworth Scout (St Mary Magdalene) Troop based in the Church Institute, Wiseton Road, in 1940, aged 14, then moved to Ellerton Road in 1954 with his parents.
Having read last month's Chronicles, Barbara remembered seeing her father's map in the back of a cupboard. And here it is:
The boundary of the parish is marked in orange. In addition to the V-1 flying bombs and V-2 rockets, whose craters are well-established, it shows the impact points of many high explosive bombs (e.g. on the Prison and the RVPB, and on the Common itself, which are not). It also shows the locations of two barrage balloon sites, one on Trinity Fields and the other on the Cricket Pitches, at the corner of Dorlcote Road and Trinity Road. (This area is shown in aerial photographs.)
I sent a copy of the map to a Graham Jackson, a regular correspondent, who has written a book on the History of Trinity Fields (mentioned several times before in these Chronicles, including in "last month's). This is his response, which arrived only moments later:
Oh Wow! If only I had this information in 2021, it would be certainly worth putting in my book!
I also notice the bomb that hit Lyminge Gardens.
What is interesting regarding the two bombs that landed on the field itself is if they were recorded in the bomb map which I know you have sent me somewhere. Think they were not?
If you look carefully at the 1947 aerial photo you can see what might have been the damage inflicted by the bomb next to the Brodrick Road gardens. it would appear it landed just inside Battersea Grammar School's portion of the field demarked by the hedge and perhaps explains some of the damage to the Beechcroft Road pavilion which was considerably repaired and modified around 1950. Interesting that it seems the hedge survived in that area and possibly shielded it from damage to the Trinity Road pavilion.
The impact of the bomb opposite the church is less clear unless being immediately next to Trinity Road it was filled in. If not it might have plugged into the bank and perhaps failed to explode.
I like the graphic regarding the barrage balloon!
Thanks, Graham!
All Saints Church in threat
At the last Wandsworth Historical Society meeting, Neil Robson spoke briefly but very movingly about how All Saints Church is falling down — and may not be able to find the money for the repairs.
If you haven't seen these pics, they're scary.
Time and space are now so tight that I am combining two items in one, and condensing them.
First, I was present at a rather wonderful unveiling to author/playwright/editor Tom Taylor and and composer Laura Barker in Lavender Sweep, off Battersea Rise, last Saturday. The event was organised by Jeanne Rathbone, and was a hoot — thanks, Jeanne!
And second, here is Tom Taylor's poem "The Battle of Balaklava" — published in Punch magazine before Tennyson's "Charge of the Light Brigade", and using many of the same words and phrases. But sadly for Tom, his didn't create quite the same historic bow-wave.
As I've said a few times before, several Wandsworth and Battersea residents fought in the Light Brigade in the Crimean War, and a number are buried in Battersea Rise Cemetery or in Magdalen Road Cemetery.
Here's just one of them:
Talk, Friday 25 October 2024
The Thames on on the Eve of Londinium
(Click on image to enlarge)
Exploring a late Iron Age landscape
A talk by Craig Campbell from the Kent Archaeological Society.
You are welcome to come along to one of our talks free of charge before deciding whether you want to join the Wandsworth Historical Society. Our talks are usually held on the last Friday of the month
8pm
Friday 25 October 2024
Friends' Meeting House
59 Wandsworth High Street, SW18 2PT
(The Meeting House is opposite the Town Hall, a short walk down from the Spread Eagle pub)
[Wandsworth Historical Society: Home page.]
On Armistice Day, Monday 11 November, I hope to give a talk to/for the Friends of Wandsworth Common on "Life and Death on Wandsworth Common in WWI: The 3rd London General Hospital".
The venue as usual will be Naturescope, on the Common, just a couple of hundred yards from the RVPA, and even closer to the rows of hutted wards that covered the cricket pitches throughout WWI.
Here's a little video I made a few years ago:
Talk by Philip Boys (HistoryBoys) at the Naturescope, Wandsworth Common, Monday 11 November 2024, 6:30 for 7pm.
You should be able to book a place using this link . . .
But if the link doesn't work, email history@wandsworthcommon.org direct.
SO many more stories still to tell. But that's all for now, folks.
If you would like to receive occasional notifications of new Chronicles, let me know.
This search box is not very consistent, but always worth a try:
Send me an email if you enjoyed this post, or want to comment on something you've seen or read on the site, or would like to know more —or just want to be kept in touch.
October 2024
Return to the top of this page . . .
